


Beyond The Surface

by happy_phantom



Category: White Collar
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Trust Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_phantom/pseuds/happy_phantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and Boston and some problems...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Neal

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> Well, I can’t get enough of bad handlers, can I? But this story would be much different from any stories about handlers I read – no more Kramer this time.
> 
> The story won’t contain any graphic depictions of violence – but for some people the subject (abuse, violence) may be disturbing. You have been warned!
> 
> Give it a try – I focus on one character in each chapter. The plot – well, I hope you’ll like it. And Neal would...., well...:) When I think about it, the story would be about the strength and the resilience – but it’ll take a while to get there :) And June will play a crucial role (I have to bribe you to stay with me!)
> 
> I’d like to thank my lovely beta Ayam for all the hard work! You’re amazing!

When you’re a conman, a criminal and a convict on work release, who pushed the limits, broke the law so many times, you should know that one day someone would catch you and wouldn’t let your wrongdoings to be swept under the rug. If you were Neal Caffrey, you could easily name the person who could do such a thing. You just wished that for once that it hadn’t been Peter. But of course, it had been him.

* * * * * *

So when one day Peter told Neal that this was a punishment he had to accept, that if he were good, he would be given a second chance here in New York but for the time being he had to leave, Neal was only little surprised. Peter didn’t tell him how disappointed he was since he had found out about Neal’s recent lie slash con slash illegal activity– even if it was supposed to bring some criminals to justice in the end, even if it was for the greater good. This time it didn’t work and Peter just couldn’t turn a blind eye on Neal’s activities. It was just a bit too much for the agent. Peter didn’t have to tell Neal how pissed he was because Peter’s actions spoke louder than any words possible could.

Peter personally called and asked his colleague in Boston to take Neal. Peter personally escorted Neal to June’s to pack some things and handed him to the Marshals who transported him to his new city. Peter personally made sure that John Smith – Peter’s buddy and a decent agent would handle Neal – not become him – and that neither June, nor Moz (who was pissed at Neal for whatever reason) would try to help him escape. Of course, they could contact Neal and comfort him but Peter made himself crystal clear what he would do if he found out about any kind of illegal activities.

Peter explicitly told Neal that there would be no other option – not now, not after what he had done or what he had been doing since the beginning of his prison release. Peter had made a list of all his wrongdoings, mistakes, ways Neal broke, cracked or omitted the law – he did write it all down, thank you very much – and presented Neal the list. It wasn’t a short one. And Peter somehow didn’t manage to see that in many cases Neal did it working for him and it led to some great accomplishments, put so many criminals behind bars. No, Peter decided to see only his part of the story – and fed himself the lie that Neal was nothing more than a criminal and if given the chance – he would run cons for himself, not the FBI.

So Neal bowed his head and did it – he changed one city for another, one handler for another. He had no other option but to accept what had been thrown at him. All the bitter words, all the long hours, all the ways of humiliating him. He accepted all of these because he believed that one day a miracle would happen and he would be forgiven (not that he was even sure what his sin was in the first place, but he decided to play Peter’s game for now).

After three weeks this faith was still present and even blossoming. After six – forget the blossoming. After nine – he wasn’t sure that the faith had ever been there – if some of it remained, there were just shreds – like in a convict facing the capital punishment and waiting for the Governor’s call two minutes to midnight, like in a dying person who thinks that the sudden improvement was a sign of life, not of death. And Neal needed a miracle, right here, right now. Because of what just happened (Neal was sure that there would be more to come), there would be no more Neal working for the FBI. He made his decision. Enough was enough. No more accepting the unacceptable, no more pain – not the physical one, but the pain of knowing that technically someone had all rights in the world to do it. If freedom were to come at the highest cost, let it be.

And then the miracle happened – a sort of. Not that Neal had seen it right from the beginning but he saw it eventually.

Neal would have laughed at the irony of the situation if he wasn’t busy multitasking – calling for an ambulance and trying to pull his handler out of the car – he just couldn’t let him die there. Neal was many things but not a murderer. The smell of gasoline was about to become the smell of a burnt car (and burnt bodies if he wasn’t quick enough). Their car and their bodies. He managed to take Smith to safety before the SUV exploded and immediately started pressing a too rapidly bleeding wound when the cavalry arrived. He stepped aside while the medics did their job. He felt hollow and drained – but suspected that nobody gave a damn about his well-being. Smith’s agents decided that their medical knowledge was good enough to assess that he was unscratched. And because it was Friday early in the evening, they also decided that he would have to spend the weekend in the holding cell until they figured out what had just happened. They handed him to the Marshals and promised to be back first thing Monday morning. No, Neal didn’t see a miracle in that.

The Marshals who transported him were pissed that they had to do it - it interrupted some down time they were having. They searched him, took his mobile and gave him a clean uniform to replace his blood-soaked clothes. They assumed that a) he was checked over at the scene, and b) all the blood belonged to Smith. Neal knew that neither was correct. He was not checked and there were parts of his body bleeding prior to the unfortunate encounter with the vehicle at the crossroad but he was a conman after all – he wasn’t about to throw a tantrum about some mistreatment, not after nine weeks of mistreatment by federal agents. Besides some part of his brain screamed at him ‘no hospital.’ If he weren’t so tired, he would figure it out. The Marshals threw him in the cell and informed that he was entitled to use the shower once in every three days so he would have to wait. Not an exact definition of a miracle, either.

Neal lay down on the cot and decided to close his eyes just for a second. He knew that sleeping in prison wasn’t the best choice but he was the only occupant of the cell and it was made clear that it would stay that way (maybe a small miracle, but staying awake and thinking was way too tiring). He felt bone tired – he hadn’t slept well, he hadn’t eaten well, he hadn’t felt well for a while – like three to nine weeks. The only thing he did well these days was accepting the punishment or punishments – plural he would say. And today – it was just too much. Neal closed his eyes and saw New York – his apartment, his desk, his routes around the city. Peter told him that maybe there would be a second chance, didn’t he? Neal wasn’t sure any more but the tiniest shreds of hope and faith lulled him to sleep.

He was awakened by a hand shaking him gently. When he blinked his eyes, he saw an older man standing next to him and holding a torch and a mug. It didn’t make any sense so Neal thought that he was just dreaming and closed his eyes again. He was tired after all. The person stubbornly insisted on talking to him.

“Sir, wake up. We have electrical problems and it means no light and no heating. You are the only prisoner tonight and we don’t have a place to transport you to. Here is some hot tea and more blankets.”

Neal blinked tiredly and pushed himself up. He didn’t see the point in the blankets, nor in the tea. He was cold but he was cold often so it didn’t make any difference. And he was tired so he would prefer to sleep. The guy was decent enough not to yell, drag or pull him. He just waited and then out of the sudden he cursed under his breath and Neal couldn’t figure what he had done wrong this time. And then he was gently lowered back – and neither gently, nor lying back again when he just had been asked to sit up made any sense. And definitely there was no sense in the fact the guy-with-the-mug yelled at someone else. _Bleeding, making sure he was ok, ambulance, what were you thinking_ – confused Neal further so he decided to sleep. But the guy-with-the-mug (he should have thought of a shorter nickname because it was way too long one) was back and was asking Neal not to close his eyes. There were some other questions but Neal didn’t really follow. _Pain, remember, hospital –_ didn’t make much sense and Neal wasn’t sure if he nodded or not.

And then there was a pinch of a needle, an oxygen mask, blankets, hands on his body, a sound of gurney on the pavement, sirens, lights of the ER, commotion, more hands, more words.

 _His name’s Neal. Semiconscious but barely responsive. Car accident over 10 hours ago. Low BP. Possible head and abdominal trauma._ Someone told someone. The ER doctor yelled at the guy-with-the-mug (of course he didn’t have the mug anymore) and Neal thought that it was strange – people mad not at him. He was lifted and put on the bed and then the world stopped because they cut his clothes and spotted blood where there shouldn’t be any blood. Neal found it equally hilarious and frightening that everyone stopped. He was sure (more or less) that it must have to do something with the ‘no hospital’ rule. No sure any more. And no miracle, either. And the ER doctor and the guy-with-the-mug decided to put up a fight and Neal wasn’t sure if they weren’t speaking some kind of a code because it didn’t make a sense. Again.

_You better question your men._

_It’s not possible. They wouldn’t have._

_Oh, really? Because it took you a lot of time to bring him here!_

Neal wondered if they were talking about him – and he would love to enjoy the awkward conversation but his dropping BP decided to offer some humble assistance in putting the world back into motion. There were even more hands and sad glances. Neal couldn’t figure out why they were sad. Or maybe they weren’t? _Internal bleeding, CT scan ready, OR on standby,_ _remove the anklet_ – he wanted to protest that his handler would be pissed but everything was too fuzzy and too tiring. _Neal, I’m Dr Green, we’ll take care of you but please open your eyes._ He obeyed because she asked so nicely but because she shined a light in his eyes, Neal decided to close them again quickly with a groan. Being poked and prodded by sad people wasn’t his definition of a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Reviews?


	2. US Marshal Mike Sanders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> US Marshal and Neal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks - as always - to my lovely Ayam for all hard work!

When you were in your sixties, you want some peace in your life. When you were in your sixties and an US Marshal with over 35 years on the job, you want even more peace in your life. When you were all above and in charge, you really wouldn’t want to be dragged from home sweet home without any solid reason such as an escaped prisoner, a felon who turned himself in or a warmed cold case. When your name was Mike Sanders, you knew that such luck wasn’t in your book and that you would have to go to the office because of mere trifle.

*****

US Marshal Mike Sanders could think of many reasons he might be called in to work before dawn but none of them was just as simple as a power shortage. Why his subordinates couldn’t handle so simple a problem as keeping a non-violent prisoner from freezing in his cell was beyond his understanding. Even given that they were not the sharpest tools in the shed, they should be able to figure out how to prevent him from becoming a human popsicle because of the lack of heating in late January. They must have skipped the lesson on humanity because Sanders’ solution was as simple as it could possibly be.

“Get some more blankets. I’ll brew some tea.” He ordered his men and thanked himself for the gas stove.

The agent opened the door to Neal’s cell and found him sound asleep on his side, curled in a small ball, covered with a blanket tightly wrapped around him. After so many criminals he booked, Sanders found this picture disturbing. He didn’t know what was wrong with this situation but something was off. People held in prison for whatever reason didn’t usually sleep so deeply – in order to survive prisoners learnt to sleep lightly, to wake up when there was some noise, any kind of noise in fact. In fact just opening door to the cell was quite a noisy operation.

The agent didn’t want to startle the sole occupant of the cell, so he shook him gently. The prisoner opened his eyes – big, baby blue eyes, somehow unfocused – and closed them again. Sanders tried once more.

“Sir, wake up. We have electrical problems and it means no light and no heating. You are the only prisoner tonight and we don’t have a place to transport you to. Here is some hot tea and more blankets.”

The prisoner sluggishly pushed himself up. It was a very slow process but he managed to sit up listing to the side. The blanket fell off him and Sanders saw it. A huge stain. He touched it and felt sticky substance under his fingers. Blood. Neal’s prison uniform was soaked with blood. Sanders was more that sure that it was his own blood. He realized that there was much too much blood for someone expected to survive. The agent cursed under his breath. Badly. But he schooled his expression and made sure to use the most calming voice possible.

“Sir, let's get you down.” The agent gently lowered him and his cooperativeness, glossy, unfocused eyes and lack of any response worried him further. Shock. The prisoner was in shock. Sanders called his men.

“Why do I have a prisoner with blood on his clothes? What the hell happened?”

“What? We gave him clean clothes – his own were stuck with blood. We brought him from the car crash site. I guessed he was checked over there.”

“You guessed! You should have double or even triple checked it! I need an ambulance here yesterday! What were you thinking! What is his name?” He didn’t care if he was yelling loud.

“Caffrey something.”

“First name, damn it!”

“Neal, boss, his name is Neal. The bus is on the way,” the second officer replied.

“Neal, I need you open your eyes. C’mon.” The prisoner obeyed.

“My name is Mike Sanders. Are you in pain?”

A slight nod.

“We’ll fix it. Don’t worry. Do you remember what happened?”

Neal didn’t respond.

“Ok. Relax. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

He nodded. The medics arrived shortly and Sanders followed them. The name – Caffrey rang a bell and Sanders remembered that the Marshals had checked his place and run some drug tests some time ago – nothing had been found and Sanders was sure that he had a word with someone in the FBI about the situation. Because it had been more than one test and more than one apartment visit.

The drive was quick and before he knew it, he was parking outside the hospital. He was too accustomed to the interior of the ER for it to make much of an impression on him. The smell, the commotion, the noises. The agent had been there, had done that. Too many times – in both roles – as a patient, and as an investigator.

The tall women in scrubs recognized him and the agent was sure that she wouldn’t be starting a pleasant conversation. She was a very good doctor with no patience for nonsense and no tolerance of excessive use of force (and quite a tamper, too). Sanders would be lucky if he was given chance to explain that it wasn’t his fault (well, at least not directly – he didn’t know that his subordinates were so stupid and careless). He would be lucky if he had a chance to open his mouth to begin explaining.

“Mike, I really appreciated the fact that you gave us something like ten hours – give or take – after the first victim was brought in. I actually managed to sip a coffee. You know, who would think that time might be an issue with bleeding wounds and deep purple bruises that indicates the internal bleeding. And who would bother to check a guy whose actions saved the life of a federal agent. Damn it, he pulled his handler from the car in flames!”

Sanders wanted to say something but they transported Neal from the gurney to the hospital bed and started to cut his clothes. Someone cursed while spotting the blood that indicated another trauma mostly unrelated to the accident.

“You better question your men.” The doctor yelled at him. If she was mad before , now she was fuming.

“It’s not possible. They wouldn’t have.” The agent tried to defend his people – they might be careless, stupid, but they wouldn’t have done that.

“Oh, really? Because it took you a lot of time to bring him here!”

Sanders would love to explain his men’s actions but the doctor had to be back with her patient – his BP had started to drop. The agent might be pissed but he was also a skilled investigator, a rational man who could and would solve the puzzle – who, why and when.

Sanders asked a nurse to call him when they had the report ready because his gut told him that sharing information might not be the smartest move. He knew that there might be thousands of explanations but he also knew that losing evidence, or creating ‘evidence’ where none had existed, wasn’t a huge problem for any law enforcement officer. And his main suspect was a law enforcement officer – and it didn’t matter which agency he (Sanders doubted that the someone would be a woman) represented.

Sanders came back to his office and questioned his men. They weren’t much help, especially since they foresaw suspensions and such in their futures. Well, actually right now he had a bigger problem on his hands, so the agent promised himself (and them) to discuss the matter further on Monday.

Then he pulled Caffrey’s tracking data – and his suspicions that the man (or men) behind it were with law enforcement proved right – prior to the accident Caffrey had been in the apartment of one of Smiths’s agents. Anyone would need a warrant to search the place but Sanders suspected that any incriminating evidence was already successfully destroyed.

He read case reports from New York and Boston, did a background check on Neal. First, he thought that there was nothing what could explain the current situation. But he took a closer look and saw it – Neal spent long hours working in the office, was kept in the holding cell for Christmas, New Years’ Eve and Smith’s days off. And Sanders cursed badly – nothing that Smith did was technically wrong. The handler just took the release agreement too literally.

The morning came too soon – Sanders was used to staying up the whole night but he wasn’t young anymore and the lack of sleep was bigger problem now than it had been twenty years ago. But coffee and adrenaline kept him running. The hospital called around 10:00 in the morning to confirm that Caffrey had made through surgery – the blood loss and internal injuries were the biggest issue but the doctors were optimistic. Neal was in the ICU and Sanders promised to find and call his medical proxy. Caffrey’s medical file arrived shortly after. _Shock, extensive blood lost, internal bleeding, lacerations on back, some bruises of unknown origin, raw wounds on both wrists._ Off-the-record Dr Green told him that the marks indicating a very recent beating – hours prior to the accident at most.

“I don’t know how it happened – but he was hurt before the accident. He was also cuffed – his wrists are in bad shape. But we haven’t found any biological traces – so whatever happened it would be very hard to prove it. We transferred him to the ICU. He is stable.”

Sanders thanked Dr Green. He suspected what had happened – that Neal was beaten by his handler and his men. The doctor was right – without hard evidence, without someone pleading guilty (and Sanders doubted that Smith would tell anyone what had happened), it would be a battle of better lawyers, smarter witnesses and more reliable sources. And he knew that Neal – no matter what actually happened – would lose.

Sanders found that Neal’s medical proxy lived in New York. Her name was June Ellington and the agent called her right away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Reviews?


	3. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June in Boston...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you so much for all kudos and reviews!  
> You're amazing! A bit earlier - I hope you don't mind :)  
> As always - my lovely beta Ayam did a great job! Thank you!

When you have been a wife of a conman, you have experienced many difficult situations in your colorful life. And probably thanks to that, there weren’t many things that could startle, scare or frighten you. But when you got a phone call from the US Marshals office informing you that Neal Caffrey had been taken to the hospital, you were more than startled.

And when there was a long pause after you asked what had happened, you almost panicked. Neal was like a grandson, like a young, modern version of your beloved Byron. You loved him – more than you would ever expect to love a stranger met in the thrift shop. You almost lost him so many times – and now you knew that when Neal was ordered to go to Boston, you should have done something. You hadn’t done a thing back then but you would do whatever it takes now to bring him home. Your home. His home.

*****

June arrived at the hospital late in the afternoon. Thanks to her grace and kind smiles, she was led to Neal’s room within minutes. She met his doctor.

“Mrs Ellington, a nurse will bring you all the forms to fill in. Mr Caffrey was brought in almost twelve hours ago. He had emergency surgery to repair damage sustained during the car crash – the surgery went well and we repaired his spleen. He had some lacerations on his legs, arms and torso as well – he pulled his handler out of the car. He hasn’t awakened yet but that could be expected. However, it worries us a bit – we discovered some swelling in his brain but it should clear on his own within the next few days.” June looked terrified.

“Please call me June. What’s his prognosis?”

“Barring any complications, he should be fine. We’ll keep him in the ICU for about a week, and then – we’ll see.”

“Thank God. But what will happened after? You want to send him to the prison, don’t you?”

“ Mrs Ellington…June, I don’t want to. But I might not have a choice – his handler has already told us that he is a flight risk. I just don’t think it would be fair but…it’s not my call. The US Marshal who deals with his case should be here soon.”

“Dr Green, what is it that you are not telling me?” The doctor didn’t look much surprised – June looked like a person who could easily read people.

“Mr Caffrey had some contusions that happened before the accident. He was beaten recently.”

“Oh my God… By whom?”

“I wish I knew.” The doctor excused herself and left.

June sat by Neal’s bedside. She contacted Neal, Neal had contacted her over the previous months but not too often – he worked a lot. She understood that he wanted to prove to Peter and probably the whole world that he had changed, that he had put his troublesome past behind him and that he was a better person now. She also knew that he did what he did – all the alleged crimes – because – truth be told – he didn’t have that much choice. June always saw in Neal a golden heart and maybe a bit of recklessness accompanied by equally brilliant mind – she never saw him as a criminal.

Now it was very hard to take what she was seeing – Neal skinnier than usual, paler than usual, looking younger and fragile amidst wires and tubes.

After a while, June heard a soft knocking on the door and an elderly man cautiously entered Neal’s room.

“Mrs Ellington? My name’s Mike Sanders from the US Marshals office. May I come in?” June nodded and greeted the man.

“How is he doing?”

“Nice to meet you sir. Thank you for the call. Neal’s hanging on. But I hope you didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries.”

“No, Mrs Ellington, I didn’t.” The man sat down and sighed heavily.

“I’ve been on the job long enough to know that sometimes you should look for clues outside the files, that you should read between the lines. Mrs Ellington as you probably already knew, Neal was beaten before the accident – not badly, but painfully.”

“Do you know by whom?”

“I have my suspicions. Do you know why Neal was sent here?”

“Sir, Neal’s a brilliant young man with a golden heart. He’s smart, empathic, genuinely good and sometimes irresponsible – or reckless, or too impulsive maybe. Usually he got into trouble because of one of these traits. His handler in New York was mad because Neal did something wrong and they didn’t manage to catch the criminals. And it wasn’t the first time when Neal… well, being Neal acted a bit outside the box or law for that matter. I had to believe that Peter decided to send Neal so he could mature a bit, that maybe a change in the scenery would help them both. Trust – or problems with trust – was the biggest issue between the two of them. And I know that something must have happened here.”

“Mrs Ellington, you should have joined the law enforcement – we need people like you.”

June chuckled lightly.

“Mr Sanders, you would be surprised but my late husband and the law didn’t agree very often. But I can connect the dots when I see them – and now I see Neal who is too skinny and too pale. I talked with him and I suspected something some time ago but he always tried to con me. So – please enlighten me – what the hell happened here?” June didn’t curse. Well, normally she didn’t curse. But she was angry now and even in her polite world curses were (sometimes) acceptable. Sanders decided that she deserved the truth.

“I wish I knew what had happened. I know that though Neal had a good reputation here – he was prized by his handler and other agents – he didn’t have an easy life here. He was kept on a very short leash. My office checked his apartment, did drug tests. He spent his handler’s holidays and any other holiday in the holding cell – he was marked as a high flight risk. He worked long hours here – up to 16 hours a day – but everything was done according to his work release.”

“So you’re telling me that he was abused legally – in the name of law?”

“Ma’am, I wouldn’t call it abuse…His handler just took everything too literally…”

“Semantics. But how did the beating happen?”

“I don’t know – he did some undercover work in the beginning of the week, but the doctor told me that the bruises are more recent. And the wounds on his wrists… He was in one of the agent’s apartment prior to the accident. That’s all I know. It just doesn’t fit.”

“Maybe they escalated?”

“From checking his apartment to beatings? I don’t think so. It’s more like something different happened. Anyway – I’ll try to solve the puzzle. He did good today – he saved his handler’s life today.”

June smiled – but the smile was more grim that bittersweet.

“That’s Neal – you beat him, humiliate him and he saves your life in return.”

“Ma’am, as soon as he wakes up and is lucid enough – please let me know. This is my card. I’d love to hear his version of the story. But I’m afraid that if we don’t get more evidence soon, whoever did it, he’ll walk free.” Sanders added bitterly and excused himself.

June knew that the agent was right – without evidence they didn’t have a thing. She sat down and waited for Neal to wake up. He did so late in the evening and June had to wait outside while the doctor checked him over.

“Ok – June, he’s ready. We added some painkillers and anti-nausea medication to his IV. He’s not very lucid – we will monitor this closely but I hope it’s just the natural reaction to the anesthesia. The nurse will bring some ice chips soon.” June re-entered Neal’s room. Neal was propped on the pillows. His eyes were partially closed.

“Neal, sweetie, it’s June.”

“June?” He opened his eyes.

“Yes, dear. It’s June. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Sick. Sleepy.” He told her.

“Do you want me to call someone?”

“No. Just give me a m’n’te.” He closed his eyes again.

June patiently waited. Neal’s nurse was back with ice chips.

“Neal, open your eyes. Let’s try some ice.” The nurse tried to cajole him. Neal opened his eyes with a groan and shut them again.

“Neal, does the light bother you? Any nausea?”

“Yeah.” To prove that he wasn’t lying, he bent over the bedrail and threw up. The nurse managed to give him a bowl and then excused herself and returned with a doctor. June was more than terrified.

“It wasn’t that bad when he woke up. And he should be better by now.”

“Neal, I need you to open your eyes for me.” Dr Green checked his pupils.

“Ok. Everything seems ok. What’s the last thing you remember?” Neal tried to think hard – and it wasn’t easy given the number of drugs in his system.

“I don’t know. S’rry.”

“It’s ok. To be on the safe side, we’ll take you for some more tests.” June sighed heavily.

“June, don’t worry – we’ll schedule an MRI to see if there is anything worrisome – to make sure we didn’t miss anything. I don’t think so – but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Neal became a bit more lucid.

“I don’t want to. Just leave me alone. Send me back, please.”

“Send you back where Neal?”

“To prison. I don’t want to be here anymore. I tried to cowboy up, to be good so I could come back home but it’s too hard. I can’t do it anymore. June, please help me. Let me go back, please.” Neal had tears in his eyes. June was speechless but she knew that her feelings weren’t the most important ones now.

“Sweetie, I know you have been hurt. But right now the doctor must make sure you didn’t bump your head too badly. Let her do her job, ok? For me?” June asked and Neal slightly nodded.

The tests didn’t reveal anything new but the swelling didn’t subside.

“It can explain his lack of lucidity and problems with memory. Don’t worry. We’ll keep an eye on him.” The doctor assured her.

When Neal was back and sound asleep, June called Marshal Sanders to let him know that having Neal’s testimony was out of the question now.

“Mr Sanders, he is not very lucid. He doesn’t remember much. I’ll let you know as soon as he feels a bit better. And don’t dare come here and handcuff him.” June didn’t have to add what she would do – her tone of voice warned that she was dead serious.

And then she called Peter and politely explained the situation. Well, she did it and then she read him the riot act. Politely. Peter was on his way to Boston before she hung up.

June wanted to stay with Neal but the nurses persuaded her to go to the hotel and come back in the morning.

“He’ll need you more in the morning. Now he’ll be sleeping for hours. We’ll take care of him. Don’t you worry.”

An elderly nurse accompanied June to the elevator and told her in low voice,

“He’s a very brave young man. He saved more than one life. I wish I could tell you more. Let’s put it this way – with his many skills, he managed to break the chain.”

June didn’t know what she was talking about but she understood that whatever Neal had done – it had to be kept secret for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Break the chain is not a supernatural element! Don’t worry!  
> I'm a bit nervous about your reaction... :)  
> Be back next week with Peter! And happy Thanksgiving!  
> Kudos? Reviews?


	4. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for you comments and kudos!  
> Beta - as always - my lovely Ayam.  
> Enjoy!

When you are an FBI agent, you don’t expect to ever question the morality of your actions (well, at least not often). But now – since you have found out more and more about Neal’s time in Boston, you have to face many unwanted truths – how could you have been so stupid, how could you have done this to a person who was your partner and your friend, how could you have assumed – as a trained agent – that someone had been happy when this someone was in misery. How could you have been such a jerk – Peter asked himself. And he didn’t find an answer.

*****

After June’s call, Peter was on his way to Boston in no time – and it didn’t matter to him that he would reach his destination in the middle of night – he just needed to be there.

He had kept track of Neal’s activities and was genuinely surprised that the kid hadn’t caused any trouble. The agent didn’t check his tracking data and conversations between the two of them were few and between. He assumed that Neal was doing ok that he maybe finally had found a new place to live.

Peter found a small motel in the area, took a shower, grabbed some food and when the morning came, drove to the hospital.

Peter first entered Smith’s hospital room. The agent was awake.

“Peter, nice to me you. Your boy Caffrey saved my life. I must thank him and you – you trained him well.”

“Apparently, I didn’t. He should know that some activities should be reported.”

“What are you talking about?”

“John, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If this goes to your superiors or to court, it would end your career!”

“Well, First of all, this is just a conversation between friends, ok? I assume you’re talking about the fact that someone beat Caffrey. Oh, don’t look so surprised – I know what happened – sort of. And that the “someones” are allegedly my agents.”

“And you’re ok with it?” Peter was fuming.

“No, Peter – of course, I’m not ok. Hypothetically, if push comes to shove, I will testify that I found out about it and wanted to put an end to the unethical activities. I was driving Caffrey to seek medical attention. I will underline that I would file a complaint and take proper actions first thing after he was taken care of but unfortunately – the accident rendered me helpless in that matter. Do you have anything that proves otherwise? Any proof that it didn’t happen this way? Remember that Caffrey is a conman, a convicted felon who more than once broke the rules and who was sent here because his handler – that means you – couldn’t handle his so-called ‘criminal activities.’ And besides – he went undercover this week – you’re sure he wasn’t beaten then? I can play this angle as well. So Agent Burke – Peter, what do you say? Do you really think this case stands a chance in the courtroom?”

Smith sighed heavily and continued,                                                                                            

“Peter, I don’t know how it happened – and between friends – I’d have done something. Neal’s a good kid. He helped a lot. I hadn’t noticed his bloody wrists or that he might be hurt. I picked him up from my agent’s apartment – normally we don’t spend a lot of time together outside of work – I don’t believe in being friends and colleagues at the same time – especially with CIs. But my agent, Adam Clarks, wanted some assistance from Caffrey – I think it was with a present for his wife or something. We were driving to prison – I was supposed to go for additional training in Quantico next week and I arranged for him to be locked up there.”

“You did what?”

“Peter, you told me to have him on a short leash – I did. C’mon what would you do?”

“John, damn it – he’s a human being – I’d never have done that!”

“Don’t be so melodramatic! I had a right to do it according to his work release – and I’ve done that before – for Christmas and New Year’s, my vacation time. Wasn’t something you wanted me to do? You told me to handle him. Peter, I’m not a bond-type of person – I don’t give a damn about my agents’ personal lives as long as they perform their duties.”

Peter was speechless and fuming. But Smith had a point –he could have done that. Peter never assumed that Smith ran his office that way – they were buddies from Quantico – and he was a bit withdrawn from many activities but Peter still would describe him as quite a sociable person.

Peter knew that for Neal – who needed social interactions to breathe – it was worse than anything else. When he was on route to Neal’s room, he was spotted by June who apparently wasn’t finished with clarifying her position on the matter.

“I don’t care Peter if I destroy their careers or yours as well. You put him undercover in dangerous assignments. How many times it was just a sheer luck that saved him? Or his ability to talk his way out of the most hostile situations – his silver tongue, his brains? You used his skills whenever you needed them. You sent him here – and I don’t want to tell you that it’s your fault – but….but I have to believe that you did it because you cared, and not because he became a burden and you wanted to get rid of him in order to save your career. And he was beaten, Peter! No one seems to know how or why it happened – but he was beaten!”

“June, I wish I had an answer for you – I wish I could tell you that I had caught the bad guys red-handed – I didn’t and now… it would be very hard to prove what happened.” Peter would love to tell her something more but she wasn’t even close to letting him do it.

“So it’s getting better! The people who did this, who hurt him, laugh at him and want – what – maybe a trial? a hearing? to prove their innocence, or maybe they would claim that their actions were justified! They beat him! No, it won’t happen. Neal will get the best lawyer available – money is not an issue – and he won’t hesitate to dig out and expose each speck of dirt he can find. And I’m not camera-shy! I don’t want though to put Neal through this, and I guess you don’t want to put your office - and probably the whole FBI – under scrutiny. I’ll give you 24 hours to come up with a plan. I mean a good plan. I bet that what we found out was just a tip of the iceberg.”

June was right about the iceberg. What they were about to discover would be a huge surprise for them. But, knowing Neal, it shouldn’t have been.

Yeah, they needed evidence – and it was hard to get anything. Because Neal’s statement (which he would have to make in the first place) didn’t stand a chance against Smith’s or his agent’s testimonies – in the court it would be the word of a conman against the word (or chorus in fact) of decorated field agents. Even if they could pin something on Smith’s people, it would be no more than the neglect of medical assistance after the accident. And it was easy to reject the accusations – the agents would claim that they had asked Neal after the accident and he had assured him that he had been fine and probably they would keep their mouths shut about the beating.

“Peter, and your plan must include bringing him home – I won’t let him stay here. I spoke with a US Marshal. Technically – apart from the beating – nothing Smith did was wrong… …But how could you treat someone this way! Peter, Neal worked so hard and he spent Christmas in some holding cell! Christmas!”

“June, why didn’t he complain? Why didn’t he call me?” As the words left Peter’s mouth he knew it was a mistake.

“Why? Oh, I will tell you why! You told him to cowboy up – so he did. He always admired you! Neal didn’t have a happy childhood. You are – or were – the first person who had such a positive effect on him. You were the closest thing Neal ever had to father! And you promised him a second chance if he behaved.” Peter knew that he deserved each word – and that it was true – Neal trusted Peter and Peter had become a traitor.

“June, I sent him here so maybe he would mature a bit! That maybe I wasn’t such a great influence after all…”

“Peter, your reasons don’t matter right now. Neal…When he first woke up, he was terrified. He didn’t remember the accident or having been in the Marshal’s cell I explained that he had been admitted to the hospital and then… Peter, he actually tried to refuse medical attention…. he wanted to be sent back to prison….”

Peter stared at June with eyes wide open. June wanted to tell him about the nurse and what she told her but she wasn’t sure if Peter could be trusted…

“Peter, he wanted to be sent back! I didn’t tell anyone else and I believe that you’ll keep this to yourself, but you have to understand I’ll do everything in my power to help him get better. Anything. And you know that I was a wife of a conman. I learned from the best. I won’t fight by your rules. I play to win, and believe me, you wouldn’t enjoy taking me on.” One look at June’s implacable face convinced Peter that if he tangled with her he’d indeed come out second best.

“June, I want to help Neal no less than you do! But right now we don’t have anything.We need something – anything – or Neal will be either sent back to prison or forced to stay here. I’m on Neal’s side. I wish I had never made that call and sent him here. But I did. I don’t want forgiveness - maybe I do – but what I need more is justice.”

June sighed.

“Peter, he doesn’t remember what happened. As I told you before, I assumed that it’s more than we can read in his medical files. We need to find something – if not, we’ll lose him – one way or another.”

This time Peter sighed.

“June, I don’t know what can be done…”

“Peter, you offered Neal a deal and you worked with him so well because in so many cases he could think outside the box. He provided hands-on experience that you were lacking. Maybe it’s time for you to try a different approach? If you don’t find anything, I’ll go extremes to save him. I promise you that.”

“ Give me one day and please try to get ahold of Moz for me. I’ll need his expertise to deal with this.”

June decided to tell him – it might be the only chance to help Neal.

“What I’m about to tell you will have to stay between the two of us – an elderly nurse came to me and told me that Neal saved more than one life with his skills, that he broke the chain.”

It didn’t make much sense to Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be back next week with Mozzie and the mysterious phrase will be explained :)  
> Stay with me :)  
> Comments? Kudos? Ideas?


	5. Mozzie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mozzie and...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always - thank you for all kudos and reviews! And - as always - my lovely beta - Ayam did a great job! Thank you!!!

When you are Mozzie, well…you’re Mozzie.  You and the law, rules, government, Suits are not the closest of friends. You believe that being a conman has its own perks and as much as you admire and understand Neal, you can’t agree with him on his current life choices. But he is a friend – more than anyone else. Boston instead of any country without US jurisdiction and extradition agreement wouldn’t be your choice, but apparently it was Neal’s. Yes, it unnerved you. Yes, the Suit unnerved you sending him there even more. But the kid was better than anyone gave him credit for. And you knew it.

You and Neal have been through some rough times together but always managed to be there for each other when it really mattered. Yes, you did help him during his stay in Boston – not that he shared a lot of information with you. You suspected something was off (and that he wasn’t telling you everything) but you respect and trust Neal too much to push him on this.

When you got a frantic call from June that Neal needs you and probably your friend Sally as well, you got yourself a ride to Boston immediately. Of course, under an alias. Of course, you suspect that whatever Neal did, remains well hidden. You taught him well after all. And you know – as much as you hate to admit – that you will have to work with the Suits. To help them – and to help Neal.

*****

By the time Moz arrived, June decided that they would all have to put disagreements and accusations aside (for now at least) and work together. And that was why the newly gathered so-called ‘working committee’ met in the hospital cafeteria. It was quite a sight – June, Moz, Peter and Sanders –they decided to invite him as well (June somehow managed to trust the elderly man) – sitting at one table drinking bad coffee and pretending not to notice the elephant in the room. June started.

“Neal is sleeping right now – the last thing he remembers is a lunch at the office on Friday. Nothing besides that. He’s still not very lucid.”

“Blame the Suits.” Mozzie added to June’s statement. Peter sighed, decided to ignore the comment.

“Ok. We know that Neal did a good job here – and it doesn’t make any sense that he was beaten.” Both Mozzie and June gave him a deadly glance – by their criteria Neal hadn’t done well here – because if so, he wouldn’t be lying in the hospital, nor spending holidays alone in some holding cell.

“Suit, do you think that he should be beaten if he weren’t doing well?”

“No… it’s not what I wanted to say…” Peter tried to defend himself.

“And keeping Neal in a cell over vacations and holidays was really beyond the pale even for feds.” Mozzie added.

Fortunately Sanders saved the agent, reminding about the task at hand. 

“Let’s try to establish the time line. I pulled his tracking data. Neal left the office at 4 and drove with one of the agents – to the agent’s apartment. Caffrey was picked up at 6:30 by Smith and the accident happened around 20 minutes later.”

“Smith told me that they didn’t spend a lot – or probably any – time outside the work: no beers, no dinners, no birthdays. But one of his men asked for Neal’s help with something.” Peter added.

“Do we know who?” June asked.

“Yes. Adam Clarks. 36, married twice, moved from LA last spring with his new wife. No children.”

“I’ll find out about him.” Moz added.

June sighed heavily.

“I’ll have to trust you on this. Someone told me that Neal broke the chain and with his skills he saved more than one life. And neither Peter, nor I, have an idea what it means.”

“I might know but I’ll have to check something. Mozzie, can I ask you to check something?” Sanders addressed the little man who gave him another deadly gaze in return.

“Do you have access to a database outside official resources?” Sanders asked and Mozzie huffed.

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” Sanders smiled.

“Fine with me. Check the guy – Adam Clarks –  thoroughly – look for any complaints about extensive use of force. Anything. And check his credit cards – medical expenses.” Everyone (except Mozzie who had his own suspicions that were about to be confirmed) looked at him in shock, but before he could explain June’s mobile rang.

“Oh, my God! I’ll be right there!” Everyone’s hearts skipped a beat looking at June.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain it right now. We’ve got to go back to Neal’s room. Now.” Even Mozzie rushed with the group.

Dr Green waited for June outside Neal’s room – the doctor was surprised seeing the number of people with June.

“Dr Green, what’s going on? You can explain it to all of us –  we all are here to help Neal. ”

“Two men came to visit Neal – they claimed to be agents. Neal got very upset – I don’t know exactly what happened – but Neal has been sitting on the floor since they left and he insists on being arrested. We need to get him into bed – and check him over. I really don’t want to scare him any more but if we don’t find a solution soon – I’ll have to sedate him even if it includes orderlies and the use of force.”

“Did you get the names of the agents?”

“Well, I’m not sure if they are even law enforcement officers. One of them pushed my nurse and was yelling something about his wife. The second was trying to calm him – not very successfully. I had to call security and they escorted them outside. I think that Clarks was one’s name.”

June had tears in her eyes.

“June, I’ll try to talk to him. Maybe he’ll listen to me.” Peter offered. The agent entered Neal’s room and spotted the younger man squeezed in the far corner of the room, pale and trembling visibly, his back to the wall. His head was bowed and resting on his left knee that was drawn up to his chest. He had  some fresh blood on  the arm where the IV used to be. Peter found the sight heart-rending.

“Neal, let’s get you to bed.”

“Peter?”

“Yes, Neal. It’s me.” Neal looked at Peter and pointed at the door,

“Go away. I did as you told me and you never came.”

“Well, I’m here now. As soon as you get better, you can be back in New York working with me.”

Neal laughed bitterly.

“I don’t want to. One day you will change your mind and send me away. Thank you, but no. I want to go to prison. I don’t want to be anyone’s pet anymore. In case you forgot I’m a human too. Contrary to popular belief, I do have feelings.” Neal sounded very lucid and himself.

“Neal..” Peter was cut off.

“Go away.” Peter’s heart broke further – if it were even possible – but he knew that he deserved it. Everyone else was standing by the door. Well, minus Mozzie, who was already gone but that was to be expected.

“Neal, sweetie, let’s get you to bed.” June tried,

“No. I want prison. I can punch someone if it’s necessary. I tried to escape   – arrest me!” Neal tried to convince them.

Sanders whispered to June _Trust me_  and took over,

“Mr Caffrey, I’m arresting you for attempted escape. Give me your hands.” Neal gave him his hands and the agent gently and loosely put handcuffs on his bandaged wrists. Peter wanted to protest but June’s stern glance and a firm grip stopped him from doing that.

Sanders helped Neal to stand and walked him to the bed. Neal was wobbling but tried hard to stay upright and support his own weight. The agent maneuvered the younger man onto the bed and propped him up on pillows.

“What are you doing? We should be going to prison.” Neal tried to protest, to get back on the floor, but he was too weak.

“You’re in my custody which means that you are my responsibility right now and you have to be checked over first.” The agent uncuffed Neal’s hands and let the doctor and a nurse do their job. When Neal was hooked back up to all the wires, monitors and the IV, a mild sedative was added (Dr Green was convinced that it was necessary) and Sanders told him,

“Son, I think I forgot to read you your rights. My memory is not as good as it used to be. So I have to let you free. I hope you don’t mind. I’d hate to deal with the paperwork and IA…” June and Peter smiled.

“You conned me, didn’t you?” Neal asked hesitantly.

“Maybe a bit.” Sanders smiled sadly, spreading a blanket over Neal.

“Son, I know what you did. And I’m not going to let you be sent anywhere but some place safe with your friends nearby.”

“I don’t understand…” Neal was getting drowsy.

“Shh, now, you have to get your strength back.” June told him stroking gently his arm. Neal tried to protest but his eyelids drooped and he was asleep soon. June smiled and thanked Sanders.

“Thank you. But - what did you figure out?”

“Neal indeed saved another life – my bet would be at Clarks’ wife.”

“What?”

“I’m more than sure that this so-called agent is abusive – probably he had beaten her. Neal must have found out somehow and helped her. How good is Neal at forgeries – I mean documents?” Sanders asked Peter.

“The best.”

“So my working theory is that Neal prepared her new identity, contacted people who run things like that – smuggling victims of abusive relationships under new names away from the abuser’s hands.”

“Aren’t they any programs do help people like that?” June asked.

“Well, they’re…” Sanders started,

“But if you’re a wife of a law enforcement officer your options would be limited.” Peter added.

“Yeah.”

“But ‘break the chain’?” June asked.

“If I’m not mistaken, it’s the anthem of a campaign to raise awareness of violence against women – that was done some time ago. The person who told you that believed that we would figure it out.”

“But it’s still only a theory.”

“Unfortunately,  it is. But… well, I got a gut feeling that it wasn’t only Clarks’ wife.”

“No, it wasn’t.” The same elderly nurse who talked with June the other day, came into Neal’s room and while checking his vitals, continued, “I never told you that. But he’s a very brave and extremely talented and resourceful man. There should be immunity for him.”

“For whatever he did to help someone – yes.” Peter told her.

“He has many contacts. He got a new life for – if I’m not mistaken – four or five women. New identities, safe houses, jobs... He left many husbands furious. But if you want some evidence, remember – you would put not only his life, but the lives of these women at risk.” She was done with her patient and left.

“She’s right. We won’t get testimony or evidence – unless we’re willing to extract a high price from the victims.”

“Ok. I got why and what Neal had done – and probably Mozzie could tell us more about it but he of course is conveniently gone – but why does Neal want to be sent back?” Peter asked.

“I guess he’s just confused, maybe he’s afraid that he’ll be hurt again. He would have a hard time getting anyone in authority to believe that the ‘good guys’ were causing his injuries. Beside Neal hates violence.” June added in soft tone.

“Or maybe he knows that if he goes back, he’ll get killed in the line of duty.” Peter added. “He’s frequently in danger undercover.  It wouldn’t take much for one of the agents who was supposed to be protecting him to conveniently fail to notice a threat. Or even kill Neal himself and blame it on the ‘bad guys.’”  

“We checked his apartment and we didn’t find anything illegal there. And he didn’t stroll around the city – he worked too much. So how did he manage to prepare the documents and get the women to safety?”

“Well, Neal’s the best.” Peter smiled and added, “But you’re right – I’ll ask my boss to send me my people here to figure it out.”

“I’ll post someone outside Neal’s room 24/7 in case of another incident. And I’ll interview the staff who saw Clarks’ outburst – maybe we would find something to bring him for questioning.”

“And if we play it right, we may have some leverage.” Peter added.

“I’ll stay with Neal.”

“June, I know he doesn’t want to see me – and I get it – but he needs someone with him. El can be here in 5 or 6 hours. What do you think? You might need a break from time to time.”

“Peter, that sounds good. He always has had a soft spot for her.” Peter smiled sadly. Both men excused themselves and left to do their job.

While the group minus Mozzie was talking in Neal’s room, the little man managed to finally understand the whole picture. Neal had contacted him and asked for some supplies and money. Mozzie had been using contacts across the country as well – no questions asked. The network of individuals they knew who knew someone who knew someone was really broad. And in their line of work confidentiality and discretion were of high value.  He knew that the kid had a golden heart and he knew that it was for everyone’s safety that he was kept out of the loop. But now he would dig out each piece of information (and he would even work with the Suits to bring those responsible for Neal’s beating and not only his beating, to justice – of course, he would not ever admit to doing that…).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very nervous about your reaction.... I hope you will stay with me. Let me know what do you think!
> 
> And break the chain: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fL5N8rSy4CU video on youtube.


	6. Debbie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debbie and Peter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta - as always my lovely Ayam.  
> Thanks for kudos and reviews!

When you were a young woman you fell in love. Badly. After first bruises, slaps and arguments, you tried to persuade yourself that he would change. During your first (and only) hospital stay, you realized that it would be unlikely. An elderly nurse came to you, gave you a bag with clean clothes, a bus ticket and some cash. She whispered one sentence _Run before it is too late._ And you did. You knew that she saved your life.

Then the times were different – no credit cards, no internet. You didn’t change your name – the distance between East and West Coast was enough to have a fresh start. He never came looking for you and you were extremely grateful for that. You became a nurse. You loved your job, and when you retired, you kept in touch with your colleagues and friends. You have been doing what the nurse had done for you – even if now it required far more than a bag of clothes and a ticket. Now it required a network of people like you.

You’ve been living in this flat for many years – it was value for money, the people might not be rich but hadgreat hearts. When an FBI agent knocked one day at your door to inform you that a _criminal_ would be living next to you, you asked – pretending to be terrified – what the _criminal_ had done.

“Bond forgery. But he was suspected of far more.” You felt like you hit the jackpot.

You almost laughed at the agent, when he assured you that the _criminal_ was non-violent and gave you a card to call _in case of any suspicions or problems._

The next day you baked a cake and that was how Debbie Morgan met Neal Caffrey.

*****

The cooperation between Debbie and Neal was far more successful than she even dreamt was possible. She knew that they were playing with fire but Neal assured her that he had been doing that long enough to know how not to get burnt. Besides, he was happy that his skills and contacts were used to help innocent women. And probably also that he could con his handler who tried to make his life so miserable.

Debbie suspected that to some degree, the agent succeeded – she noticed that Neal was becoming skinnier, more quiet. His usual trademark smile wasn’t reaching his eyes anymore.

And then one day he got burnt – Debbie got a phone call from her friends at the hospital. She visited him when medical personnel sent his landlady and friend – June, to get some sleep. She just hoped that Neal was right about his handler in New York and that the agent would come and start a thorough investigation. She had some things to say to him.

Bancroft and Hughes agreed to send Jones and Diana to Boston to help Peter (and Mozzie and Sanders and any other ally they would come across) to find out what happened (and why it had happened).

When the agents arrived, Peter sent them to Neal’s apartment. It was a small one-bedroom suite in the block of similar cheap flats. Surprisingly the area was clean and well-kept. The manager was a nice guy who knew all his tenants but wasn’t eager to reveal their secrets. He was sincerely worried when the agents told him that Neal had been in car accident.

“He’s a nice guy. He never caused any trouble – I don’t know why they have been checking his apartment so often.”

“C’mon, how did he manage to survive here? It’s so not-Neal-like style.” Diana told Jones who somberly nodded.

“Yeah. You’re right. We shouldn’t have let Peter send him here.” They weren’t just talking about living conditions – his apartment or neighborhood. They were referring to the fact that Neal was abused by their colleagues.

“We shouldn’t have. Do you think he will want to work with us again?”

“I don’t know. I just hope that it haven’t caused him more harm than good.”

“I guess that Peter thought that Neal would be sent back after a week tops with some complaints and a very angry ex-handler and no nice memories of Boston.”

“And Caffrey of course had to have surprised everyone because he actually behaved. C’mon it should have clued us in that something was not right – Neal and obeying rules?”

Neal’s apartment was tidy but screamed loudly that he wasn’t really happy there – no paintings or sketches, old, worn-down furniture, small kitchenette, no hiding places.

The only thing that seemed not to belong to this place was a nice, woolen, hand-knitted blanket on the bed. After a while, they heard someone entering the room. An elderly women stood by the door and asked,

“Are you with the FBI?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jones answered. The elderly woman muttered something that sounded like _a bunch of idiots with guns._ She was supporting herself on a walking stick and Jones would bet any money on the fact that she really didn’t need it – but when given a chance (or an excuse) she would use it on someone. Somehow she managed to scare Jones in some strange, creepy way. He wasn’t planning on checking the potential use of the walking stick. Not a chance.

“We came here from New York,” Jones provided just in case.

The lady relaxed a bit and asked with a smile, “What’s your boss’s name?”

“Our direct supervisor is Agent Peter Burke”.

“Is he here?”

“No. He’s not.”

“But did he come to Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you better call him and ask him to come to my apartment – I live next door. I might have a cookie for him.”

Diana wanted to say something but the lady shushed her.

“I hope he will be here soon because I’m planning on visiting a friend who is in the hospital in an hour or two.”

Peter arrived as quickly as possible. He went directly to the lady’s apartment and introduced himself.

“Ma’am, my agents told me that you wanted to see me.”

“Yes. May I see your credentials?”

“Ok. Agent Burke. My name’s Debbie Morgan. I’ve been living next to Neal since he moved in here.”

“Mrs. Morgan, I believe you have some information.”

“I do. I do, Agent Burke. I don’t want anything for me but I need a statement that Neal will get immunity for whatever I’m about to tell you. And make it in writing.” She gave him a piece of paper with a prepared immunity offer. Peter was surprised because the deal was really well prepared. He called Hughes and got his blessing to sign _whatever the hell is needed to find out what your boy Caffrey got himself into this time._ Peter verified with Debbie than the possible crime did not involve a weapon or anyone’s being hurt or killed.

With the paperwork signed, the lady offered Peter a cup of tea and started talking,

“Agent Burke, I don’t know what Neal had done in New York. But how you who appear to have at least average intelligence – managed not to see his golden heart, this is beyond my understanding. And even after what you had done, he still had some faith and trust in you. At least he was right in thinking that you would come.”

She sighed and continued, “I don’t know if you fully comprehend what Neal has been through. I won’t spare you the details.” Peter knew that he deserved it – he wanted to be punched, punished, yelled at – he hoped that maybe it would lead to his redemption.

“I always heard him coming back home late at night and going directly to bed or to take a shower. I knew that he had been working too much. He didn’t have enough time to shop or cook– so I tried my best to feed him. But…When you spend 16 hours at work and would be spending another 16 hours at work the next day, you would prefer to sleep rather than eat. Then – drug tests – at least once a week. Checking his apartment – meaning making it look like there had been a tornado or a burglary – once every ten or twelve days. They wanted him to spend even his weekends in the holding cell but apparently someone came to their senses. Or maybe it cost too much. He worked on Saturdays as well. And you know what? He found time to help others. With his bright smile, brisk steps, heys, how are you doing, do you need anything. Whatever was thrown at him – he kept trying.”

“When he wasn’t allowed to go and get lunch, he decided to bring his own food. When they searched his food for contraband, he started taking something that was originally packed. When they cuffed him in the office if they were leaving for lunch or a meeting, he didn’t complain. I would – when it happened once a week, the wrists had time to heal. Once a day – they didn’t. So he just bought a wrist band – like tennis players use.” The lady chuckled bitterly.

“How can you do something like that to another human being – long hours, holding cell when your handler or the whole nation have a day off, handcuffs. In my book it’s torture. And it was done according to law! I’m not surprised Neal wants to go back to prison.” Peter was only a bit surprised that she knew about it.

“He asked his friend – Mozzie – yes, I do know him – not to come here. You know why? I do. Because if I were Mozzie, I would have knocked Neal unconscious and dragged him out of this madness.”

“One night I heard him coming back and then I heard a loud thump. My heart stopped. I called Jamie – our manager-- and he opened the door. Neal was on the floor next to his bed. I checked his vitals – BP too low, glucose level dangerously low. It took me some time to rouse him. He told me that he didn’t want to go to the hospital – because it would make his handler look bad.” The lady stopped and let the words sink.

“Of course I called a doctor and Jamie called his handler. The doctor – a friend of mine – managed to convince or more accurately threatened Agent Smith and Neal stayed at home for a couple of days. Neal slept for the most of it.”

“Some time later he came back nursing his ribs. He not very willingly told me that he had been undercover and a thug pushed him downstairs. Not that anyone bother to check him over.”

This situation freaked Debbie out but she was even more terrified when Neal came back home after spending Christmas in the holding cell. She saw that he was on the edge – maybe of running, maybe of turning himself in and revoking his work release, maybe of giving up. When the weekend came, she planned a Christmas for him – and told him that Jesus wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t about the presents (but she made him a lovely blanket and he got her a silk scarf), food or eggnog – it was about people. By the time all the people from their confidential circle left (yes, they had something like that – you need a network of trustworthy people to run such an operation), Neal was hanging on by a thread. She knew that he was shaken – and didn’t want to show his vulnerability – not in the front of everyone. But Debbie knew that he needed to let go – so she just hold him and let him sob. She wasn’t about to tell anyone. She respected Neal too much.

“Ok, I guess that now it’s time to tell you what Neal did. He forged documents and organized safe houses and money for women abused by their husbands or boyfriends. It’s not an easy task to convince a victim to accept assistance. I have been doing this for more than 30 years now and I know how hard it can be. It’s a network of people who know someone and who know how to help. It’s not easy – apart from making someone believe that you could help you have to organize a strong support system – so the victim can actually start a new life. If there are kids, it gets even more complicated. Neal is extremely talented – the documents he prepared were spotless. Everything was right – the paper, the stamps – everything.” Peter smiled.

“You won’t find anything in Neal’s apartment – everything was done here, at my place. Agent Burke, you have to understand that what we have been doing is dangerous – it’s not because we maybe have another definition of law – I don’t care if you arrest me or not – but if you do, keep in mind that _A retired nurse who saved many lives from abusers arrested by the FBI_ will make a national news headlines. It’s dangerous because of the abusers – they’re not only regular Joes. People with guns, contacts, huge egos. Adam Clarks was one of them. Neal found out about his wife by accident – I showed him the photo of a woman treated in some private clinic and he recognized her as Clarks’ wife. He reached out to her and convinced her to run. Clarks’ previous wife died in a car accident – and the accident itself wasn’t staged – but you should check the ME’s report about the injuries prior to the accident.” Peter nodded.

“You know that Neal’s apartment was searched – I guess that they suspected something. And they never found anything – and who would suspect a lovely old lady living next door who was terrified when the agent told her about her new neighbor.”

She sighed, “Agent Burke, do you have any questions?”

“How many women did Neal help to save?”

“With Clarks wife – five. And he prepared documents for a few more – we’re waiting for the right moment to escort them outside Boston.”

“Anything else?”

“Not now.”

“Ok. Would you mind giving me ride to hospital?”

“Not at all.”

Debbie and Peter talked a bit more – she told him that one of three agents came and picked Neal up each morning for work– either Clarks, Smith or Sanchez. Clarks was the worst – always making some fuss and treating Neal sadistically. Once he dumped Neal’s food checking for contraband. Smith was Smith – always playing by the rules – cuffing Neal, having to look at his apartment and so on. Sanchez was the nicest one. He never cuffed Neal, brought him coffee and checked on him when Neal was sick at home.

When Debbie entered Neal’s room, he was awake and talking with June. The women shook hands and Neal introduced them. Debbie and June knew – right from the beginning – that there were a lot of differences between them – but one thing they had in common – they cared deeply about Neal.

“Debbie, is everything ok?” Neal asked meaning _do you need my help_.

“Sweetie, apart from you lying in a hospital bed, everything is just fine. Don’t worry. Right now we have to focus on you getting better.” Debbie knew that Neal didn’t remember what happened when he first woke up but she had a feeling that now it had changed.

“Who beat you?”

“Debbie…. I don’t want to talk about it… it’s so humiliating… I should…”

“Neal, who?” June was worried that it would endanger Neal’s health but apparently Debbie knew what she was doing. June texted Peter who was waiting outside to as silently as possible enter Neal’s room and listen. Neal tried to escape the question but Debbie insisted and finally he answered, “Clarks.”

“Only?”

Neal nodded.

“Neal, sweetie, what is that you are not telling me?”

“Because they all of them were there. And it’s…” Neal was getting more and more angry.

“It’s not your fault – remember you saved her.”

“I know… but I’m not strong enough to do it… I was terrified that I would reveal some secrets…I didn’t….” Debbie hugged him gently and was rubbing small circles on his back.

“So Clarks beat you and Smith and Sanchez were watching?”

“No exactly. Smith cuffed me because Clarks told them that I had an affair with Annie. When I told him that maybe she had left because he was beating her, Clarks got mad and started to throw punches. It was a while before Sanchez managed to get him off me.”

“What did Smith do?”

“Nothing. He just stood and looked at the scene. Sanchez tried to patch me up and then Smith told me and them not to tell anyone. And then – the accident.” By the end of the story Neal was worn out, Debbie and June were angry and terrified and Peter – Peter was enraged. Smith lied to him. But maybe he had found some leverage – Agent Sanchez.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Reviews? Ideas?
> 
> Be back next week! But only 1 chapter left before Christmas...maybe 2 max...


	7. Agent Sanchez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanchez and the truth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta - as alwyas - my lovely Ayam!  
> Thank you for all your kudos and reviews!

When you became an agent, you vowed to serve and protect. Your folks have never been more proud – son in law enforcement who graduated from a good university – they never dreamt of more. You have been taking your job seriously but you also liked it. It was a challenge but a highly rewarding one.

When you were invited to join the White Collar division in Boston, you thought that it was a chance of a lifetime. Soon you realized that this might not be true.You and your boss – John Smith – do not always see eye to eye. But since the job has been done and no one has gotten hurt, you haven’t complained. Smith isn’t the kindest and the warmest guy in the universe but he has been playing fair and square. But then Adam Clarks arrived and you got a bad feeling. Clarks is smart but doesn’t care about other people’s lives, well-being or feelings. And he has been bad influence on Smith.

When a CI – Neal Caffrey was transferred from New York, you really thought that it would be a win-win situation – you read his files and admired (not loudly and not in the front of other FBI agents) his skills. You were looking forward to working with him. But then you were warned not to befriend him and rather to show him his place. You found this situation perplexing – what exactly was Caffrey’s place? Just because he committed some crimes and was trying to redeem himself, was he supposed to be treated as less than human?

When you’re given power derived from the gun and the badge you’ve been carrying, it’s very easy to cross a line between right and wrong. It’s even easier to justify your actions with some big words like protecting, innocent, lives. And the easiest thing to do is to turn a blind eye when others do the same – like a mutual agreement – I will have your back when you have mine. Don’t care about anyone caught in the crossfire.

And now you know that you made too many mistakes – some smaller, some bigger – but all stupid ones. But you know that at least some of them can be un-made.

Because you still believe that what matters in the end is the fact that you can look yourself in the eye, and go to bed at night with a feeling that you did good today. You haven’t been able to do this since Friday and the accident – or even before that. But this was about to change.

*****

When Sanchez looked back at what had been going on in the previous weeks, he realized that he hadn’t done enough. The agent always considered himself to be a compassionate and a rightful person so he had tried to be as nice as possible to Neal. He had never checked his apartment or turned off his electricity for the day when he had picked him up (Clarks’ idea for saving some money) – he always tried to bring some coffee or food. Now he realized that “as nice as possible” didn’t quite cut it. He should have done something more.

Neal was a nice kid – _yes, sir, I understand sir, I’ll do it sir, if I may, it’s not a good idea, what about_ – always polite, never complained, obedient and quiet. Smart as hell with more courage than the whole office full of highly trained agents.

When Neal didn’t complain about his working conditions, Sanchez thought that maybe he needed or liked it –as naïve and stupid as it sounded – he did believe in it back then. Now that thought made him nauseous. How he could have thought for a second that someone might even remotely need or like being humiliated – cuffed, tested for drugs, having his food searched and the apartment tossed apart. Because it was nothing less than a pure humiliation even if supported by the law. They were stepping on the line but never quite crossed it – until one day they did.

He should have seen the signs before – the increasing dullness and decreasing light in Neal’s eyes, his shaking hands and a thinner frame. He did – but seeing them and doing something about it were two different things.

Sanchez made his decision – he knew that he would have to testify against his colleagues. But he reached the point that he knew that he would do it and wouldn’t regret it. It wasn’t any more about saving his career, it was – as cliché as it sounded – about saving something far more important.

On Monday morning Sanchez arrived at the hospital. He didn’t go to see his boss. He went to see Neal. The agent wasn’t really surprised when he saw a US Marshal outside Neal’s room. He wasn’t on the list of people approved to visit the younger man. Not a huge surprise after what had happened during the weekend. There was someone with Neal – and Sanchez recognized her – it was Neal’s neighbor. The US Marshal agreed to ask her to step outside the room and talk with Sanchez.

“Yes? How could I help you sir?”

“Ma’am, I just wanted to apologize to Neal for what happened during my last visit. Would it be possible to talk to him?”

“Agent Sanchez, I know that you are a decent man – Neal told me as much, but right now he’s sleeping. He’s had a set-back in his recovery and the doctor blames it on the encounter with you and Agent Clarks. He needs to gain some strength.”

“Ma’am, I understand and I’m really sorry. Could you just please pass this to him.” Sanchez handed her a bouquet of flowers and an envelope.

“What’s this?” She asked cautiously weighing the envelope in her hands.

“It’s a letter – please give it to him when he’s a bit stronger.” Debbie nodded.

Then the agent drove to US Marshal office to meet with Mike Sanders and Peter Burke. The last stop would be his office – to hand in his resignation, badge and gun. But first, he was about to become a man who would be hated by his former colleagues, he was about to confess to his own sins and to reveal the sins of others.

“Agent Sanchez, during the phone call you told us that you have some valuable information for us. Whatever you will tell us, I don’t know if I would be able to offer you something in exchange.”

“Agent Burke, I fully understand. I don’t want anything – peace of mind would be a sufficient reward. Please record my testimony or do whatever is needed. I’m aware of possible consequences.”

“Shall we call your boss or a lawyer?”

“No. I don’t want either the presence of an attorney, union rep or my boss. I will clean up the mess I managed to create.”

“Ok. Let’s get started.”

“Agent Burke, I don’t know what Caffrey did in New York, but he is the best CI I have ever met or worked with. His knowledge and skills are amazing. He is also very compliant and follows orders – which I didn’t expect from what I heard.”

“Neal and obeying orders in one sentence? Didn’t you forget to add ‘dis’ before the verb? Are you sure we are still talking about Neal Caffrey?” Peter tried to joke – he saw how tense the other agent was and how hard it must have been on him – but there was no humor in the joke. But it was also hard on Peter – he knew that he had made a mistake – and he realized that in the heat of the moment – that moment over two months ago, he had made a wrong decision. Right now he didn’t even remember what exactly Neal had done that day.Peter only remembered being utterly disappointed and mad.

“Yes, he did obey orders. However, we suspected that he also did something outside the law – you know, some business on the side. His apartment was searched many times and nothing was ever found but – I could call it a gut feeling – he was up to something.”

“Agent Sanchez, he was but right now we can’t tell you any details. It wasn’t something illegal, though. Could you tell us more about last Friday?” Sanders asked him.

“Well, the day didn’t start in a pleasant way. We closed a huge case on Thursday so everyone needed some down time – you know, some paperwork and exchanging plans for the weekend. Agent Clarks arrived furious – he spotted Neal and grabbed him by his collar. Agent Smith and I managed to separate them. Then Agent Smith sent Agent Clarks home.”

“Did either of you ask Clarks about the cause of his outburst?”

“Yes. Agent Smith took Agent Clarks and me to his office and tried to find out about the incident. Adam – Agent Clarks told us – that his wife left and he suspected that Caffrey had something to do with it. He had found a hand-written note in his wife’s things – _Do it. Everything will be ok. Don’t be afraid._ – something like that. I don’t remember the exact word. It was Neal’s handwriting.”

“Have Agent Clarks ever talked about his marriage?” Sanders asked.

“Not really.”

“Ok. And what happened next?”

“Well, Clarks went home and we worked until five. Agent Smith told me that we had to figure out what had happened. So I took Neal and drove him to Agent Clarks’ apartment. Agent Smith followed us in his car.”

“And then?”

“Neal was very reluctant to go there. He asked me if I knew what I was doing. He didn’t plead, didn’t try to con me, convince me or bribe me. He just asked me if I was sure. I told him that I was sure.” Sanchez swallowed hard.

“When we entered, Agent Smith handcuffed Neal to a chair. Agent Clarks once more accused Neal of having an affair with his wife. He was furious. Neal said nothing in the beginning but then Agent Smith threatened to put him in prison if he didn’t start talking. So Caffrey told us that maybe Clarks’ wife wouldn’t have left if it weren’t for Clarks’ short temper and flying fists. Clarks got mad and started beating Neal – he pushed his chair so Neal landed on the back crushing into the floor and into his wrists. It took me a while to get Clarks off him. Smith took him outside and I helped Neal – he wasn’t that badly beaten but it must have been painful – his wrists were bloody and his shirt torn. I found one of Clarks’ and helped Neal change. He had some vivid bruises and small lacerations on his torso and back. I cleaned what I could, patched his wrists. Neal was very quiet.”

“What did Agent Smith do?”

“He told us to keep our mouths shut. He was leaving for training in Quantico so he decided to just drive Neal to the holding cell.”

“What happened next?”

“I was driving home when I got a call about the accident. When I arrived on the scene, Agent Smith had been just loaded to the ambulance. Agent Clarks arrived shortly afterwards. We both decided to drive Neal to the holding cell but the Marshals showed up and we just handed Neal over to them.”

“Were you sure that Caffrey didn’t need medical attention?”

“No, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t even ask him. I knew that if someone found out we would be in trouble. I even… I even unwrapped Neal’s bandages, put his wrist bands on and then handcuffed him.”

“And what happened here yesterday?”

“We – Agent Clarks and I – visited Agent Smith and then decided to see Neal. Agent Clarks wanted to find out where his wife went. The meeting didn’t go well. Now I know that Neal was right – I figured that much from the conversation between the two of them. Or more accurately – from all the shouting Clarks did and from Neal’s responses. The kid was terrified – Clarks told him that he should enjoy his life because it was about to become miserable when he returned to duty.” Sanchez finished and he felt like he could breathe again.

Peter stood and walked around the room.

“I need to make a few phone calls.” He left them and while outside, he dialed Hughes’ number.

“You better come here. And bring someone from the legal team with you.”

“That bad?”

“Well, after this is over I doubt we will have any friends left in Boston.”

“I’ll be there in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Reviews? Ideas?  
> Be back next week with Hughes and... Maybe a promise of a happy ending?


	8. Hughes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hughes in Boston...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all kudos and reviews! And as always - my lovely beta Ayam improved this chapter! Thank you!

When you accepted and supported Burke’s idea of having a CI and then you had first-hand experience with the CI, you should have realized that the CI would change you and your agents. And that the changes would be reciprocal. You just wonder if all of them were for the better.

On your way to Boston, you have been thinking about Neal – and Peter, and the junior agents, and your career. Peter has just updated you on the kid’s actions. Five women safe, his handler pulled out of the car when Neal was injured gravely himself. He did it in over two months – give or take. You wonder how many lives you have saved during your whole career, how many acts of courage you have performed. You actually counted it – the road was quite long. And you feel somehow ashamed.

*****

By the time Hughes arrived in Boston, Peter and Sanders – thanks to the courtesy of Mozzie and Sally – had even more information on Smith, Clarks and Sanchez. The trio worked relatively well together and nothing interesting (or incriminating) could be found in the files (or outside them). Maybe apart from the fact that Smith didn’t take Neal to be checked over when he was pushed by a suspect (it wouldn’t be a problem but the suspect weighed at least twice as much as Neal and between Neal and safety were two flights of stairs). But it might guarantee a note in the files or a short suspension at most.

There were some minor complaints about Clarks’ behavior – inappropriate sexual comments and so on – but surprisingly (or maybe not so much) the agent didn’t show his pure evil face at work. The ME report from the car accident in which Clarks’ first wife died pointed to some injuries sustained prior to the accident – but not enough to start an investigation. If it weren’t for Debbie and Sanchez statement, Peter and company wouldn’t have enough to charge Clarks  with anything.

Hughes went to Smith’s boss to spell out their priorities – and Hughes wasn’t sure if they were more his own or the FBI’s. The Boston SAC didn’t want to fire Smith or Sanchez but definitely wanted to terminate Clarks’ employment with the FBI. But there was also the problem of Neal – if he didn’t get a deal that would be satisfactory for him (and June, and Mozzie, and some top-notch lawyer), he could create a lot of bad publicity for the bureau. Nobody wanted that to happen. So behind closed doors, Hughes and some top-ranking officials from the FBI were working to prepare an agreement which would meet all their goals.

Hughes was really grateful that the door was closed because he fought hard and dirty to get Caffrey the best deal.

“Let me lay it out for you, sir. You have a coward for an agent who beats his wife. Or more accurately – his wives. You have an assistant agent in charge who witnessed the beating of a civilian by an agent – Caffrey is a civilian, not a trained agent – and didn’t do a thing about it. And the thug who did the beating was his colleague and subordinate.”

“We will have OPR start the investigation and proper steps will be taken Agent Hughes.”

 “Do I look like a probie? Verbal assurances are worthless. You need to get rid of Clarks because he is a disgrace to the FBI.  What you do with Smith and Sanchez is your concern, but my people are MY concern, and Caffrey is one of MINE. I want him taken care of properly, and I want it in writing.”

“What do you want us to do?” One of them asked.

“Depends on how much bad PR you can sustain.”

“Assume not too much.”

“Ok. So you will need me to convince Caffrey and his friends that the deal he gets from us is better than the deal he might get in the courtroom.”

“A lawsuit means revoking his release agreement and sending him back to prison. Even if temporarily.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure. It depends on many factors – a judge, a lawyer, medical opinion – Caffrey almost bled to death because US Marshals didn’t check to see if he was injured-- media coverage. Imagine the reports: _a brave ex-con who tried his best to set his life straight almost dies after a car accident in which he saved an FBI agent. And it’s just a tip of the iceberg – because he was beaten by other FBI agents. FBI brutality, US Marshals indifference, abuse of authority and violence against women – those who protect and serve behind closed doors become monsters …_ ” Hughes was cut off.

“Ok, we got the picture. Caffrey can go back to New York.”

“I wouldn’t need this meeting if it were my only aim.”

“So what’s your aim?”

“The kid almost died because someone didn’t do his job. He got beaten. He  himself did his job well – to the point that he collapsed from exhaustion due to the long work hours. You got what you wanted –  I saw the increase in your closure rate. So I want immunity for his past crimes and no more anklet.”

“It won’t be possible.”

“I hope you took notes – so find  a few pointers and convince whoever needs to be convinced to do so. I hope you have a number to the DOJ on the speed dial. Use it. I want one thing though, three to six months of obligatory consulting off-anklet. I have my reasons.” After a few phone calls, not in his hearing, and some brief and apparently unpleasant meetings to which he was not invited, Hughes got what he wanted – and even more – a written recommendation for Caffrey.

Now the hard part – he had to convince Neal. When he arrived at the hospital, he wasn’t surprised to find June at Neal’s bedside. The kid was asleep but looked like hell. Hughes asked June to step outside Neal’s room. She reluctantly did so.

“Agent Hughes, shall I call Neal’s lawyer?”

“It won’t be necessary – I hope at least not.”

“Because I hired a very good one. And he and his partners are very willing to take this case. Even pro bono.” Hughes sighed heavily. He wasn’t sure if she was bluffing or not.

 “Mrs Ellington, please hear me out. I was brought up with a huge respect for the law. I always considered myself a law-abiding citizen. I’m not naïve – I know that sometimes I bent the law or turned a blind eye when others did. But no matter what I always believed in the system.”

“Is this patriotic speech going anywhere?” Hughes sighed and continued,

“While I supervised and watched how Caffrey worked with Burke, I realized something – and don’t hold it against me, please. Neal is a great asset to the bureau – but he needs an anchor –someone who will smack his hand when he crosses the line, someone who will be there for him when he thinks that some idea is good when in fact the idea is terribly bad. And that someone is Peter. Peter on the other hand needs Neal to see some things differently, to be more creative, less conventional, I would say.”

“Do you know that Neal doesn’t trust Peter right now?”

“Yes. And I don’t expect him to. I’m not sure if those two ever fully trusted each other – but somehow whatever they had between them – it worked. I have an offer – and it’s a good one. First,  immunity for all prior crimes. Then his work release. Neal has a year and a half left on his anklet. The FBI and the Department of Justice want to commute his sentence – one year will be dropped directly and the remaining half (and his medical leave would be included) he would serve under my or Jones’ supervision. But not as a criminal consultant – as a consultant – without the anklet.”

“Why?”

“Mrs Ellington, I can only imagine that Neal is angry as hell right now. And angry Neal is Neal prone to doing something reckless and stupid. I can’t force him to work with Burke. But I would like to save him from making a mistake and regretting it afterwards. I believe that the six months will give him time to cool down, to get a new perspective. Then I will have a job offer for him.”

“How can I be sure that Neal won’t be shot in the line of duty or thrown undercover in too risky situations?”

“He will have to consult but any undercover ops will be his call – he won’t be required to do them. If he wants, he will only have to consult in the office.”

“My question remains – why?” Hughes smiled sadly.

 “Mrs Ellington, Neal is a great young man. I’ve crossed paths with many criminals and I believe that he deserves a second chance as rarely anyone does. My gut tells me that he made some mistakes, committed some crimes, just because there wasn’t anyone who would show him some other way. That he never had a good role model in his life. Imagine if he had met Peter when he first came to New York  – before he committed any crimes…”

June sighed heavily.

“Agent Hughes, I know that Neal’s life choices were sometimes not wise but you have to understand that the life of a conman has its own perks. And right now he is so angry with the FBI, US Marshals, probably everyone who had even remote bonds to law enforcement. I appreciate what you are trying to do but I can’t get you your answer right away. I need some time – and Neal will need some time. Besides, right now he is running a fever and the doctors are worried.”

“I thought that he was on the mend.”

“He is. But it’s taking more time than was predicted. I need a coffee. I’ll be back soon and then you can have a short conversation with him when he wakes up. If he agrees.”

Hughes nodded and waited outside Neal’s room. The kid was pale and sweaty. Before June managed to come back, Neal stirred and woke up. He tried to reach his glass with water but couldn’t support himself enough to sit up.

Hughes sighed and entered Neal’s room.

“If you don’t want to see me, I will just give you the water and leave.”

“Good to see you, too, Hughes. I kind of miss your two fingers pointing at me.” Hughes debated for a second what to do. If he should talk to Neal or wait for June. He decided to try.

“You can have that back.”

“Evidently you didn’t notice that was said in sarcasm. It’s arrogant to assume that I would want to be someone’s pet. I just want to go back to prison.”

“Caffrey, we both know that prison won’t happen. I got you a deal - immunity for past crimes, and nullification of your sentence in exchange for six months working for the FBI back in New York. Without the anklet – as a consultant.”

“So sweet. What would you do? Throw me back in prison, revise my deal or charge me with something as soon as someone doesn’t agree with my opinion? Would I really be a consultant or still a criminal?  I suspect the latter.” Hughes sat down by Neal’s bedside.

“Son, I know you’re angry. And you have every right to be. But consider. New York is your home – you will have your landlady, the little guy, all your friends close by. You will be a regular employee. You will work with Jones – unless you want Burke.”

“What if I don’t agree?”

“You don’t have to accept the offer. But if you do – all the women you helped would be safe. If you don’t agree – in a court case, the lawyers will bring all those cases up. And that’s not good for anyone.” Hughes knew that Neal had to make decision on his own, but a little convincing wasn’t that bad, was it? Besides Neal was still weak and his energy was fading every minute. June came back with the coffee and smiled at her patient.

“Neal, before you decide, let’s let the lawyers work through the papers to make sure everything is legit.”

“I’ll think about it.” He muttered before falling asleep. Hughes hoped that he made the right decisions and saved one life today – the life of Neal Caffrey.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that I loved Hughes? :) I hope you can notice that:) Still in shock after the finale...  
> Because of holidays, it might take longer than a week to update - sorry... :(  
> Kudos? Reviews? Thoughts?
> 
> For those of you who celebrate Chrismtas - MERRY XMAS! And a lot of snow, presents, gingerbread, eggnog and Neal's whump stories :)


	9. El

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El and Neal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it took so long...  
> I hope to be back next week with Jones:)  
> Thank you very much for all reviews and kudos! And a always - my lovely beta Ayam did such a great job! Thank you!  
> And by the way - HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

When you are the wife of an FBI agent, your almost constant fear is that one day your husband won’t come back home. That you will get a visit from his supervisor who will take you to the hospital if you are lucky or the morgue if you are not.

You know that the pressure to do the job right, to catch the criminals, is extreme, that one mistake can cost your husband everything – his career, his good name, even his life or lives of his agents. You know why Peter sent Neal away – but it doesn’t mean you agree with him. But it was Peter’s call – or at least you wanted to believe that Peter had a noble reason. But guilt won’t get you or Peter far – not now.

You also know that being there for your husband if things go south is part of the job description as a wife of an FBI agent. As if it were some kind of a secret manual that wives get as their wedding gift from the Bureau. He is the one stronger every day but if something bad happens, you are the one who should – correction: has to –  be stronger.

And that’s what you are going to do right now: be his strength and his hope, pick up the pieces and set them together – un-break your life. And hopefully – the Neal’s life as well.

*****

El came to Boston on Tuesday in the early evening and met June outside the hospital. Peter kept her updated so she knew that the deal was a good thing for Neal. But she also knew that Neal would have to accept it and right now he wasn’t even close to doing that.

“El, I’ll try to convince him to see you but I can’t promise anything. He’s angry as hell.”

“I guess he has every right to be.”

“He has but it doesn’t help his recovery.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”  June told El.

Later, back at the hotel, El ate dinner with Peter. It was a very quiet dinner. Neither of them had the energy to pretend that everything was fine or even that everything would be fine.

When Wednesday came, Neal felt a bit better – the worst of his fever had passed. But soon it turned out that Wednesday wasn’t Neal’s best day. First, he had to do something about Hughes’ offer and even though it was a good deal, Neal was still angry at the FBI – he wasn’t sure if he could work there in New York with them even for  a short period of time. Besides, who would help Debbie when he was in New York? Second, when June went to get some lunch (and he just convinced her and Debbie that he didn’t need a babysitter 24/7), he tried to go to the bathroom on his own. The idea appeared to be so good – some wires and tubes had been removed and he felt better and stronger and he needed to stretch his legs. Of course, the trip didn’t end well and when he was back in bed (and had to welcome some more monitors as well), Dr Green threatened to use a tranquilizer which made Neal even more angry.   

“Sedate me – why not! Who cares!” he shouted.

“Neal, I’m not going to sedate you if you promise to calm yourself a bit. And no more overtaxing.”

“I needed to get out of this bed!”

“I know. But you had a very serious operation only a few days back and your body needs time and calmness to heal. You can’t take any more of these trips of yours. You and the bed should be best buddies right now.” Neal knew that she had a point – he felt that his body didn’t approve of his idea of a walk – but he had too much on his plate right now and usually he strolled when he needed to think. A few steps seemed to be at least a small substitute for his usual wandering around.To make things worse for him, a nurse noticed that he didn’t use any of the painkillers – they had switched him to the pump in the morning so he could control the pain on his own.

“Dr Green, he didn’t use the morphine pump over the last few hours.”

“Oh, that explains a lot.”

“Painkillers make me nauseous and fuzzy. I can’t think straight.”

“You’re supposed to rest not to solve complicated mathematical equations or whatever you’ve been working on. How bad was the nausea – on scale…” Neal hated ‘the scale’ so he interrupted her.

“Bad.”

“And now?”

“A bit.”

“Ok. We will work on it. I need to make a deal with you.” Neal huffed.

“I’m not a great fan of deals.”

“I bet you’re not. I will give you something for the dizziness and some different analgesic. You should feel better soon. Under no circumstance will you leave the bed for the next 12 hours. Tomorrow morning if everything is as it should be, I promise you a short supervised walk. And I would like to emphasize the key words here: short and supervised. Do we have a deal?”

Neal nodded.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

“It’s ok. No one is mad. I understand that you’ve been through a lot and that you will have your life turned upside down for the second time within months. It’s a lot to take in. Please keep in mind that your anger, anxiety or pushing your body too fast – all of these don’t help your recovery. It’s not even a week since the accident. You almost died. We had to give you a transfusion because you lost too much blood. A small swelling in your brain kept us worried. Neal, you need to let us help us – your temperature is still a bit up and you are still weak. Please, stay in bed.”

Neal nodded once more.

When June returned, he didn’t face her wrath – she understood his need to be on his own but he also understood her need to protect him – even if it was from himself.

“Neal, there should be someone with you. What if you got hurt? El came to DC – and I know that you don’t want to deal with Peter but Debbie and I could use another pair of hands to keep you in bed.” June smiled and Neal agreed. No, he didn’t think that he needed anyone with him but he couldn’t say no to June – not after what she was doing for him.

El arrived in the evening to relieve Debbie who had taken the late afternoon shift as a Neal -sentry. June and Debbie decided not to leave Neal on his own – even against his weak protests. And they really appreciated the third person hoping that it might help not only them, but Neal as well.

El looked like she had cried a lot recently but when she entered Neal’s room she seemed to be composed and calm. And painfully sad. After a brief conversation with Debbie, she sat by Neal’s bedside and waited for him to wake up. She knew that her task would be very hard – but she had never backed down from a challenge and she wasn’t planning on doing it now.

“Hi, sweetie! How are you?” She addressed Neal when he woke up.

“I’ve been better.” 

“I bet you have. I brought some soup and some rice with chicken and vegetables. Would you like some?” Neal bit back a snarky answer. His situation wasn’t her fault, and in fact, a part of him (a tiny one) was happy that she came. And she was a great cook after all.

“Maybe a bit of rice.”

“Ok.” El prepared him a meal – it was safely packed in some kind of a fancy vessel and was still pleasantly warm. When he was eating (Dr Green must have used some miracle drug because the nausea was gone), El tried to make small talk. But when he was almost done, she broached the most pressing subject. And it made Neal angry. Again. She should have known better. Poking a bear with a stick it’s not a good idea. Even if you just fed the bear.

“I heard that Hughes made you an offer.”

“He did. It doesn’t mean that I will accept it.”

“Would it to be nice to be back in New York?”

“As an FBI pet?”

“You know that no one thinks of you like that.”

“Really?” El sighed heavily. She knew that people thought differently – and not always positively – about Neal.

“Peter never perceived you in that way.”

“El, he sent me away. And now – he even…He doesn’t even want to see me.” Neal was surprised that he actually had said that. But he wanted a chance to properly yell at Peter…If Dr Green were to sedate him afterwards, at least it would have been worth it.

“Neal, you told him not to come.”  Well, as Neal recalled it, he had thrown him out of the room, but not told him not to come back. Peter should know better…

“Of course, it my fault now… Has it ever not been? When a criminal escapes, when a takedown doesn’t work out, when a clue can’t be found – blame Caffrey! By the way, has he ever done what I thought was best without some outside backup plan that excluded me?” 

“Neal, Maybe he wants to change. To start being a different person now.”

“El, what am I to you? A friend or a tool that can be used to keep your husband safe? How many times did you ask me to watch his back, to do whatever it takes to keep him out of trouble?” Neal heard some frantic beeps in the background and decided to try to calm down. He didn’t want to push his luck with Dr Green. Not twice in one day.

“I did. I thought that friends do that – watched out for each other. I know that when it mattered you were there for Peter. Always loyal and always willing to help. I wish I could say the same for him – I know I should have stopped him from sending you here. And I know that no matter how many times I tell you how sorry I am, it won’t be enough.  But I _am_ sorry. You can kick me out of the room but I will stay by the door in case you need something. Right now we have to calm you down or both of us will be in deep trouble.”

Neal nodded, closed his eyes and tried to even his breath. Of course, a nurse came shortly after to fuss over him. He managed to downplay his outburst.

“I ate a solid meal. No dizziness.” He started before she even managed to rebuke him.

“And you want to me believe that it caused some emotional distress…?”

“Well, you should try El’s cooking. It’s been a while since I ate such a good meal.” He grinned.

“Neal, it’s not funny. I’m glad to see that your vitals are back to normal.” The nurse added.

 “He has to stay in bed and rest. If he doesn’t stay calm, you will have to leave. He is still weak.” The nurse told El.

“ _He_ is here…” Neal said.

“And ‘he’ will be sleeping and not causing problems.” El finished, winked at him and tucked him in. Neal closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

“I know you’re faking.” El told him when the nurse left.

“El, I don’t want to talk about the deal, the accident or Boston.”

“Ok. What about the Madame Cézanne exhibition at the MET? It’s open till mid-March and I would recommend your visiting it.”

“Have you seen it?”

“I have. But I’d love to go there with you.”

“You know that it will take more than some paintings to bribe me.”

“Some paintings, hmm?” She smiled with tears in her eyes.  “Well, I know. But it would be a good starting point, don’t you think?”  Neal sighed heavily and nodded.

El knew that they just taken the first step. She doubted that it was the hardest one. But it was still one step fewer to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews? Kudos? Ideas?


	10. Jones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in New York...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear All,  
> Please keep in mind that this if fanfiction – so please turn a blind eye on my non-existent knowledge about technical things...Thanks ;)  
> Thank you for all kudos and reviews!  
> My lovely beta Ayam improved this chapter! Thank you!

When Hughes came to you and asked you to work with Caffrey, you knew that it really wasn’t a request. You wondered how you would manage to perform the task that has always belonged to Peter. 

You and Caffrey never have been best buddies. But you haven’t been worst enemies, either. An agent and a criminal, on opposite sides of the barricade. At least in theory. With Neal nothing was – or maybe still is – that simple. When you thought you knew him, that you recognized all his masks, cons and tells, he surprised you. He brought you some fancy scotch and sat by your side when an old buddy of your needed some help. When you needed some help. Then he saved your life when your cover was blown. He didn’t have to. But he did.

Back – during the anklet time, there was some reassuringly predictable unpredictability – Caffrey always had a second side, an ace up his sleeve, a con to run with no one the wiser – at least you thought so. The problem is that the conditions have changed – and Caffrey is a free man now.

But the freedom is not the most pressing issue, the biggest problem is that Neal needs Peter and Peter needs Neal. The two of them just fade without their usual banter, their arguments and even being partners in crime (solving or committing some for the greater good, who cares). And it’s painful to watch almost everyone’s failed attempts to help rebuild their friendship. But no amount of dinners and hanging-out seems to work. And no one knows what to do.

Finally, it took Kimberly Rice’s deal with the devil, kidnapping, drugs, some extensive bruising and a hospital stay to set things back on track between Neal and Peter. And a shy intern named Gary who saved the day. And Neal’s life.

*****

Thanks to some convincing and some supervised and each day a bit longer walks, Neal  accepted Hughes’ deal. The fact that Debbie in a highly conspiratorial whisper told him that she found a replacement for him couldn’t hurt as well. There was only one suspect who fit right into the job description but he had denied everything. Mozzie wasn’t about to change his habits to please anyone’s curiosity.

Dr Green never had a chance to use a sedative on Neal and Neal never had a chance to yell at Peter because the agent was told by June and Debbie to avoid the hospital – at least when Neal was awake. El’s presence was tolerated. Nothing more or less.

The FBI office in Boston underwent some changes – Clarks was arrested, Smith suspended, Sanchez changed the division. After Neal had read his letter full of apologies, he wanted to meet the agent in person.

“I know it must have been hard to tell the truth and to become ‘a snitch’. I owe you one.” Neal thanked him when the two met in the hospital.

“No, kiddo. I should have done that long time ago. And none of this would have happened.” He meant the beating, the accident, the humiliation.

“And one day Clarks would have beaten her to death. At least some good came out of this.” Neal replied. The agent smiled sadly.

It took another eight days of hospital care before Neal was cleared for the five-hour drive back home. It took another twenty nine days and up to three hours of physical therapy each day to be cleared for desk duty.

“In four to six weeks tops you should be cleared for field work.” Neal’s doctor in New York told him – and he was sure that the doctor must be overreacting and delaying his return to full duty –  but this time Neal didn’t object. He wasn’t looking forward to being back.

A day before Neal’s return, Peter came to talk to him. The agent had wanted to do that earlier but each time he thought that it was right time to do so, either June didn’t let him in or Neal wasn’t home. The other times he just didn’t have enough courage. This time the younger man reluctantly opened the door to his apartment in June’s mansion.

“Agent Peter Burke, to what do I owe the pleasure…?” Neal sarcastically commented.

“Neal George Caffrey, I think you know.” Peter tried to match Neal’s sarcasm.

“Ok. Let’s get it over with. Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thanks. Neal…”

“I know, you’re very sorry. You didn’t mean to cause any harm, if you had known, you wouldn’t have.”

Peter sighed heavily.

 “Peter, back in Boston, when I was in the hospital I wanted badly to yell at you, to let out my anger and frustration. But you never came…”

“I know Neal. And I have to tell you that I wanted to come, to be yelled at, but I think that your intentions were so clear that they didn’t let me near you so that you wouldn’t get agitated and delay your recovery. And then – well…So you can yell at me now.”

“Peter, I don’t want to yell at you. Not anymore. Staying angry takes too much energy. Besides, the whole Boston thing gave me a chance to have a fresh start – so maybe I even should thank you!” He chuckled sardonically.

“But I’m not ready to be your buddy, to trust you.” Neal added.

Peter nodded. He didn’t expect that after the conversation they would suddenly be best friends. But what was the proverb? _Even the longest journey begins with a single step._ El also told him pretty much the same. He knew that he had to be patient, to let Neal control the situation.

“I will work for the FBI because the deal is really good – but I also really appreciate that Jones will be my supervisor.”

“I understand that. El is having a dinner tomorrow – Jones and Diana will be there. I hope you can join us.”

“Ok. I’ll bring some wine.”

“El would love that.”

Neither the first conversation, the first dinner or the tenth conversation and the tenth dinner, changed Neal’s attitude toward Peter. Neal was courteous towards him. Like towards pretty much everyone. Nothing more and nothing less.

Well, Jones never thought that the main part of his job as Neal’s supervisor (the agent still remembered the look he got from Hughes when he used the word ‘handler’ – yes, he shrank in himself) would be to: a. read Neal’s reports (no additional comments or cute pictures) and b. to tell Rice that _No, she can’t ‘borrow’ Neal_.

After a while it became a routine – some kind of script to follow. Step 1 – Rice flew on her broom into the office (or maybe she just ran into the office, Jones wasn’t sure anymore) demanding that Caffrey’s assistance was crucial to the success of her case. Step 2 – Hughes invited her, Jones and Neal (and in most cases – Peter as well) into his office. Step 3 – Rice explained why she needed Neal (Jones found that her reasons dubious in most cases). Step 4 – Hughes asked Neal if he wanted to participate. Step 5 – Neal refused. Step 6 – Hughes exhaled and politely told Rice that unfortunately, _White Collar Division can’t offer the requested assistance due to the legal constraints of the agreement between Mr Caffrey and the FBI. And, no, he can’t change it_. Step 7 – Rice promised to _be back with lawyers._ Well, lawyers didn’t help – the deal Neal got was iron clad. Step 8 – everyone went back to work.

Jones had thought that _boring_ would be the last word he could use describing his role as Neal’s supervisor. The kid just solved cases, provided required expertise, rarely agreed to be sent undercover and didn’t cause any trouble – and did everything by the book. And surprisingly it wasn’t a _Handbook of being a conman._

Even Diana was fed up with Neal following the rules to the letter. One day she couldn’t help herself and told him,

“Neal, please draw something, toss your rubber band ball, pull a prank. Add 10 sugar spoons to my coffee. Distract me. Ask me about my personal life. Crack some jokes.”

“Why I would do that?” She didn’t have an answer for that. _Because it’s what you always did. Because I want to know that you’re still there. Because it was fun. Because I’m selfish._ _Because I need it…_

He stared at her.

“Yeah. And then you will be mad and report me to Jones or Hughes. No, thank you very much.”

Diana felt helpless.

None of them – Peter, Diana, Hughes or Jones – managed to truly engage Neal in social activities – of course, he drank coffee, talked about the weather (the weather for God’s sake!) or went with them to hang out from time to time – but he was quiet, pliant and so different. It wasn’t the transformation they hoped for – everyone wanted Neal to understand that the criminal path he had followed, wasn’t a good one – but they never wanted Neal to stop being Neal in the process.

Jones and Diana discussed the changes but couldn’t find a solution for them.

“Maybe these two parts of his persona are inseparable?”

“No way. It’s something different going on. And we have to figure it out – he will finish his contract soon. And then we won’t have another chance …”

The only person who seemed to rekindle the old Neal’s sparkle was an intern named Gary. The problem was that Neal was the only person who managed to work with Gary and didn’t complain. Gary was a freshman in college enrolled in some high-tech program. Probably the best description for him was a nerd? a geek? a genius? – but while his cognitive skills were way above average, his social ones were almost non-existent. He won his internship thanks to a project he had prepared and started about two weeks before Neal’s return from his medical leave.

Within his first week he managed to frustrate or annoy almost everyone. If a faux-pas could happen – Gary made sure that it would happen. Even if Gary had an idea that could be used, he either wasn’t able to translate it into language suitable for everyone (without all the jargon, etc.) or was too shy to present it. And then Gary met Neal – and somehow the duo managed to work just fine.

“Maybe Neal sees Mozzie in him?” Diana asked Jones after Neal presented a detailed, elaborated and above all – brilliant plan to take down some criminals – that Gary – as Caffrey cleared stated – and he had prepared. The plan included the use of a microchip that was undetectable (at least according to the tests Neal and Gary had run) and was able to record conversation, stored in on an on-line account. As a bonus, the thing had also a GPS tracker inside.

“It’s a project for one of my subjects at school.” Gary shyly announced.

“Shouldn’t it be your PhD project, son?” Hughes asked with awe evident in his voice.

Gary being Gary just blushed. The operation was highly successful and the very next day Hughes congratulated Neal and Gary on it. The intern, somehow overawed by the success, blurted out:

“I still have to work on it, on the chip I mean. I have a bet with Neal…” With Neal waving that he shouldn’t spill the beans,

“But I probably should shut up now.” Gary smiled. He was learning, wasn’t he? Normally Hughes would tear Neal apart for distracting his people – but this time he just politely asked about the bet with a stern glance hiding don’t-you-dare-to-mess-with-me message,

“Well, I might have encouraged Gary to improve the chip so it could be used in undercover operations and not be detected by anyone. Including the person wearing the chip. Now it’s still a bit too big – a half of inch is too much.” Neal told him innocently.

“And the bet?”

“If I put it on Neal and he doesn’t find it, he will show me some tricks how to pick up girls. And he will buy me some decent clothes. For $1000! You know – to improve my chances.” Gary was learning, but apparently not fast enough.

Hughes just huffed and told the duo to get back to work. They needed to leave his office now because it was taking all he had to keep from laughing. When he managed to calm himself, he summoned Jones to his office and told him about the bet.

“I want everyone in the office to help Gary win the bet. It would be good for the boy and for Neal as well.” Jones for a second wondered if Hughes really meant what he said, but apparently he did.

“Don’t you have a work to do Agent Jones?”

Then a request from the Met came asking White Collar to advise them with regard to an upgrade in their security because of an upcoming exhibition with many masterpieces from Europe, so the chip and the bet were almost forgotten. But not by Gary.

Gary knew that if the chip remained round there was no chance that Neal wouldn’t notice it. So he decided to make it looked like a cord. Then there was the problem of planting it on Neal – he decided that his pants would be the best choice. So when one day Gary with his usual grace spilled a coffee on Neal’s suit it gave him the opportunity of a lifetime.

It was a slow day at work so Jones drove Caffrey to get changed. The rest was simple – Gary picked up the previously coffee-stained suit from the dry cleaners and in the evening – with a bottle of wine – he was learning, wasn’t he? – brought it to Neal’s. While admiring the wardrobe, he put the suit back. Well, slightly improved version – with a chip hidden in the waist. Then – Gary only had to wait for Neal to put on this pair of trousers.

Gary knew that Caffrey being Caffrey suspected something. But neither Neal (nor Mozzie, nor June) could find anything. And Neal really liked this suit.

Four days later Jones was in court and Peter was in a meeting, so they didn’t see the huge grin on Gary’s face when Neal wandered into the office wearing the exact pair of trousers. In eight hours Gary would win.

Nobody suspected that in eight hours the chip would save Neal’s life – because when Jones and Peter returned, Neal wasn’t in the office.

“He went to meet you outside the building. You sent him a text,” Gary told Peter. The agent paled.

“I didn’t.”

And Jones realized that he had failed in his primary assignment—to keep Neal safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger… Evil me…
> 
> Kudos, reviews, ideas?


	11. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter, guilt and the chip....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you so much for all the kudos and reviews!
> 
> My lovely beta Ayam improved this chapter!  
> All mistakes are mine! Remember - my technical and medical knowledge is very limited...

When you decide to work with a CI you worry that he might commit a crime or cut his anklet and flee. You warn him about repercussions if his assistance proves unsatisfactory. You threaten to put him back in prison. But you’re still afraid he might do something stupid, reckless, criminal.

But what you fear most is that you can’t protect him, keep him safe. You have nightmares about his dying in the line of duty. You worry about failing.

And now the only thing that is stopping your worst fears from coming true is a bet. And sheer luck that only Neal possess. It doesn’t matter that technically keeping him safe was Jones’ job now. Who would care about technicalities?

*****

The previous months weren’t the best for Peter. He had made a huge mistake in sending Neal to Boston. He had rightfully lost Neal’s trust and friendship, not realizing how much he needed that trust and friendship. And now he didn’t have any idea where to start trying to rebuild it. He wanted to go back to square one – but soon realized that it wasn’t possible – both of them had changed. So it wasn’t about going back to what it had been, it was about building from the ashes. And Peter wasn’t good at this.

And now after some long and boring meeting, a minute after Jones and he walked into the office, he found out that Neal had gone to meet him in response to a request from Peter. But the agent had made no such request. Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

_You sent him a text._

_I didn’t._

It didn’t take Peter long to put two and two together. _Neal was missing._

Immediately Peter called Neal’s phone only to hear his voice announcing that he can’t answer but _you can leave a message_.

 “What time did he leave?”

“Two hours and sixteen minutes ago.” Gary announced.

“Damn it. Diana…” Before Peter managed to bark some orders, Diana interrupted him,

“Boss, Neal’s phone GPS is useless – it must have been dumped. Last known location is in an alley around the corner. The ERT team is on the way. I’ll have a look at the CCTV cameras.”

Peter knew that each second that passed made Neal’s situation less hopeful.

“Agent Burke, if I may…” Gary started.

“Gary, I don’t have time for this now,” Peter snapped.

“Agent Burke, he has my chip on him!” Gary shouted. Peter thought that he had never opened his eyes wider with disbelief.

“Impossible…” Jones exhaled.

“I saw him wearing the pants with the chip – he didn’t say anything so he didn’t find it. Probably.”

“Can you track it?”

“Yes, I hope I can.” Within two minutes they got the coordinates. Neal wasn’t moving which was either a good or a bad sign.

“Diana, I need…” Peter started.

“Boss, the SWAT team is on the way. Bus on standby.”

Hughes came down from his office seeing the commotion. “Burke, bring him home.” Peter nodded and they were on the road within minutes.

The chip pointed them to a warehouse about twenty minutes from the office. The operation was quick and successful – the goons never saw them coming. Peter couldn’t care less about them. He cared only about Neal. The chip gave them a GPS location but the warehouse was quite a big one.

“Where is a man you brought with you?” Peter grabbed one of the criminals.

“I don’t know what are you talking about.”

“Boss, there’s a basement.” Jones announced before Peter could do something he would regret later. They followed a SWAT team descending the stairs to the cellar.

Peter and Jones literally stopped in the tracks to absorb what they were seeing. Neal only in his undershirt and slacks was on the floor curled into a small ball. Before anyone moved, Peter was by Neal’s side.

“Jones, I need medics now.”

“On it boss.” _Take care of Neal._ The older agent checked for a pulse and was assessing the situation –  Neal had a huge bruise on his cheek, a split lip, shackles on his ankles, but he was breathing and his pulse was steady. He unconsciously tensed when Peter touched him but then relaxed sensing that the touch wouldn’t hurt him.

“Open your eyes, Neal.” The kid tried to open his eyes. He was partially successful. So Peter kept cajoling him.

Finally Neal managed to croak,  “P’t’r?”

“Yeah. C’mon. No sleeping on the job.”

“Tir’d.”

“I know buddy. As soon as we get you to the hospital, you can sleep.” Neal smiled and closed his eyes.

“Neal, damn it. Open your eyes.”  He fought hard to stay awake.

“O’der?”

“Yes, it’s an order.” Neal tried to smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

 “No, no. No closing them. Show the world your baby blues.” Then Neal snapped his eyes open. His pupils were dilated to the point that the irises were hardly visible.

“’mawake. P’t’r. MET. They want to rob. W’rn them. Would pin it on m’. P’lese.” Peter looked at Jones standing nearby and the agent just nodded and before even leaving the room was on the phone organizing what was needed. Neal tried to sit on his own, but his movements were uncoordinated so Peter took his flailing arms and gently messaged them keeping Neal on the ground more or less immobile but not restricted.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of this. Did they drug you?”

“Yeah. H’gh as a k’te. D’nt ‘member much. W’tch was h’re. Told me not n’ce things. Ab’t me. And n’ce a’bt you.” Neal was slurring words. Peter didn’t know who was _the witch_ Neal referred to so he just assumed that the kid must have been delusional due to the drugs.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“M’ny.” Neal chuckled lightly and started to close his eyes.

“No. Neal, stay awake. C’mon! I ‘ll put you back in prison for disobeying me.”

“No. You won’t. You were n’ce to me. And you can’t. J’nes’ job now.” Neal grinned at Peter.

“Do you want him?”  Peter asked cautiously and Neal almost panicked.

“No! Stay!” _Don’t screw it up, Peter_ the agent thought.

The EMTs with firefighters arrived shortly after that and Neal was whisked away to the ambulance. Once Neal lost sight of Peter, he struggled to get up and look for the agent.

“Sir, please stay still.”

“Peter, help! No!” Neal’s drugged mind had problems with differentiating friends from foes.

Peter hurriedly caught up with the gurney. 

“Whoa, calm down kiddo. You’re safe.” Neal relaxed with Peter by his side.

“Sir, why don’t you come with us?” A young female medic asked the agent. Peter nodded and waved to Jones.

“Jones, secure the scene. I’ll be at the hospital.”

“Don’t worry.” Jones approached the gurney and gave Neal’s leg a friendly squeeze.

“Take care and get better. We want you back in the office – and prepare the tips you promised. Gary won the bet.” Neal wasn’t too lucid but he didn’t forget the bet.

“No… did he? He didn’t? Coffee, sneaky bastard. I didn’t find it…Where did he put it?” Neal wondered.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you checked out.” Peter hopped into the ambulance and they drove to the hospital.

In the ER the medical personnel attended to Neal immediately – during the ride in the bus Peter had made sure that everyone knew that Neal _was working for the FBI, was kidnapped, beaten, drugged and by all means was a victim of a violent crime. And that he was Peter’s partner. And that he had better got the needed help now._ Neal just grinned at the agent.

Peter was given a lot of papers to fill in but before he managed to do half of it a doctor came to talk to him.

“Agent Burke?”

“Yes.”

“My name’s Dr Carter. I’m in charge of Mr Caffrey’s care.”

“How is he?”

“He’ll be fine. We’re waiting for the tox screen but as soon as the drugs leave his system, he will feel better. We put him on oxygen and started an IV to flush the narcotics more quickly. However, he has bruising on his face and I would like to check it – but he won’t  agree to a CT or an MRI.”

“Oh, no,no,no. You will run all necessary tests – he was in a serious car accident less than six months ago. He had emergency surgery and almost bled out. I don’t care if he wants the CT scan or not. He gets one.”

“Perhaps you can try to convince him. And he wants to go home – I would prefer to keep him overnight for observation. We don’t know what to expect from the drugs he was given.”

“Prepare a nice room.” Peter huffed and entered Neal’s cubicle. The younger man was on his side on the bed, his eyes closed. He was pale but his cut lip was glued and he had an icepack on his bruised cheek. He looked worn out but better than before which Peter found to be a good sign. Neal was hooked up to an IV, he had a blood pressure cuff on his left arm and an oximeter on his left pinky. The nasal cannula was abandoned on the side of the bed. He was in a set of  blue scrubs because his own clothes were taken as evidence. Even though Neal was covered with a thin blanket, he was still trembling. Peter found another blanket and spread it over Neal but the shivering didn’t stop.

The kid opened his eyes and asked in his most innocent voice, “Peter, why I am not cuffed? And what happened to the anklet?” For a second Peter was terrified that Neal had amnesia, that the doctor must have missed something but then he noticed the twinkle in Neal’s eyes and realized that the kid was teasing him so he just smiled,

“You aren’t telling me that you miss it, are you?”

“No…But... When... when I was laying there thinking maybe I wouldn’t be alive much longer, I didn’t want to leave without telling you….” He trailed off looking at Peter. If a stare could be interpreted as words, Neal would say: _I kind of miss what WE had back then. The banter, the friendship, the ‘I don’t trust you but always have your back thing’._ … And Peter would reply: _Me too._ The exchange – full of emotions, unspoken apologies, was a silent yet a powerful one. Peter squeezed Neal’s hand and Neal squeezed it back.

“You found me.”

“I told you I’d always find you.” Neither of them said a word for a while. Peter was the first one to break the silence.

“The doctor wants to run some tests.”

“Peter, you’re my buddy, aren’t you? Please take me home. Don’t make me stay here. That’s what friends do.” Neal was desperate and he knew where to strike.

 “No, kiddo. Friends sometimes have to tell you not what you want to hear but the truth. Friends sometimes have to make decision that you don’t like. Friends don’t always do what you want because sometimes they have to do what they believe is the best for you. I’m not taking your home unless the doctor clears you. Sorry, kiddo.”

“You’re no fun.” Neal huffed.

“I guess I’m not. But I’ll be by your side the whole time. And then I will drive you home, ok?”  Peter was patting Neal’s back. The younger man was still shaking and Peter knew that whatever mask Neal put and presented to the world, how hard he pretended to be fine, deep inside he was shaken, frightened and wanted to be left alone to lick his wounds. But Peter wasn’t about to let it happen.

“I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Not really. Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“No. I’m dizzy. They have to wait for the tests to give me something.”

“Do you want me to call June? Mozzie?”

“No. June is out of town and I’ll call Moz later.”

“Ok. I’ll find your doctor and tell him that he can take you to check if your brain is intact.”

“Did I tell you that you’re no fun?” Peter smiled.

Peter was waiting for Neal to come back from radiology and was surprised that his agents hadn’t called him but he figured that they were just busy. When Hughes arrived at the hospital later with a grim expression, the agent sensed something was off.

“Hell of a day…” Peter started. Hughes just nodded.

“Peter, take care of Neal – Jones told me that he wanted to be with you. It will do both of you some good. I don’t want to see either of you in the office – take the rest of the week off and next week as well. And I mean it – I will suspend you if you come earlier. If Neal needs more time, he can take as much as he wants.”

“Hughes, what’s going on?”

“Nothing for you to worry about. I’ll deal with it. None of your agents is in trouble. Neal is not in trouble either. And your agents are more than willing to fundraise Gary’s shopping expedition. I bet the kid will have plenty of job offers before he even finishes his freshmen year.”

“Hughes, I could help with the case…”

“No. You for once will stay out of it. Take Neal home, pamper him with some goodies he likes – whatever he wants to do. Let El coddle him with her cooking. Take them outside the city. But STAY out of this. I don’t want to visit you in jail guilty of the murder of a fellow agent.”

“Hughes, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

“What did Caffrey tell you?”

“Not much. But whatever happened it somehow helped our relationship – he wanted me with him in the ambulance.”

“Let’s focus on that. I’ll send someone tomorrow to take his testimony.”

Peter tried to get some information out of his agents but none of them was willing to say a word.

“Boss, Hughes made himself crystal clear what he would do with us if we talked with you about the case. And he provided some details – I like my limbs attached to my body. See you in couple days. Bye.” Diana told him. Jones was less specific but also mute about the case. Even Gary didn’t tell him a thing. Well, but he was still Gary.

“Agent Burke, sorry I can’t tell you anything about what the chip recorded. I have never seen Agent Hughes so angry. And I’d prefer staying out of his way even if he calms down. God, when he arrested agent Rice he was so composed. And that was even more terrifying.”

Peter understood why Hughes wanted him out of the office – he wouldn’t be composed arresting Agent Rice. Especially Agent Rice. Even without knowing the whole story Hughes’ motives were more clear now – Rice was yet another agent who didn’t treat Neal fairly. So Peter would have to make sure that the kid knew that he was safe and that his work for the FBI was highly appreciated. And of all people – it was (as always) Peter’s job.

Neal returned and was set up in a private room soon. His scans were clear. The tox screen was back and Dr Carter told that Neal was lucky – the mixture could have caused more serious problems with heart, kidneys or even respiratory failure.

“He has to stay overnight so we can monitor his condition – I’m glad you convinced him not to sign himself out AMA. Probably he won’t remember much from his kidnapping. Try to convince him to eat something. If he keeps some food down and he is more or less steady on his feet, he can go home in the morning. But he has to stay with someone for the next couple of days. He will be sleeping a lot. He might be weak, dizzy, unsteady and slightly disoriented. And he should set up a follow-up visit on Monday with his own doctor.” Peter memorized each word and nodded.

The night was uneventful – Neal was out of it for the most part. The doctors gave him something for the nausea and some painkillers for the headache. Drugs and fatigue knocked him out for good.

Peter didn’t catch much sleep. When Neal stirred, he rearranged his blankets. When Neal face tensed, he provided soothing words and gentle touch. Whoever entered Neal’s room, was double checked by Peter (even though he didn’t think that Neal was in any danger).

In the late morning Neal was discharged with instructions to stay with someone and take it easy for at least a week.

El had had a late event the previous night so she found out about Neal’s kidnapping in the morning (she was very close to ripping Peter apart for not letting her know earlier).  She came to pick them up armed with some pastries for both, fresh juice and fresh clothes for Neal and a rebuke and favorite coffee for Peter.

“Ok. Let’s get out of here.” Neal announced.

“Neal, June’s out of town so you have two options now: Burke’s couch or Burke’s guest bedroom.” 

“It’s not funny. Shouldn’t you be back at work?”

“No. Hughes threatened to suspend me if we come back earlier than a week from Monday.”

“Wow. He’s getting soft.” That caused a small chuckle from Peter.

“Let’s drive and you can decide later where you want to camp.”

Neal didn’t protest. Peter smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Ideas? Reviews? 
> 
> Who is the witch!? (you know it, don't you?:)
> 
> Hughes is next!


	12. Hughes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hughes, 'the witch' and the glimpse of the future...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all kudos and reviews! My beta - as alwyas Ayam - thank you so much!
> 
> I have a request - we all read fics for different reasons.  
> Could you please take some time and fill in a short survey?  
> https://ankiety.ucntn.umk.pl/index.php/799325/lang-en  
> (you have to copy the link, sorry...)
> 
> Feel free to post the link to your works as well! On the behalf of research team (and one crazy reader and writer) - THANK YOU!!!

During your career with the FBI, you have met a few ‘dirty agents.’ You have heard even more stories about how someone’s greed or wrongfully understood ‘justice’ led to a tragedy. Each of these agents is a disgrace to the majority of hardworking law enforcement officers. Sometimes their motives were clear – sometimes they weren’t.

Money, power, promise of a better life…

Yes, ‘better life,’ the grass always greener on the other side of the fence, ‘cappuccino in the clouds.’ You know that seeing criminals (especially those who dodge justice) living in their milliondollar residences, spending more money in one day that someone like you makes in a year can be hard. Sometimes agents struggle with finances, mortgages, college debts; they make ends meet but barely, and then ‘a loan,’ ‘a little help,’, a bribe, in other words. You know that it happens – you have had some offers yourself. You turned each of them down. But – as much as you despise it – you understand the temptation.  

And the other side of the coin – a criminal who wants to be a law abiding citizen, who paid for his mistakes, for his crimes, and who wants a fresh start. And people still think of him as of a criminal. When a crime has an expiration date? When does he stop being thought of as a criminal?

*****

While Peter with Jones and Diana were a part of a search and rescue party for Neal, Hughes took Gary and some guys from IT department to retrieve as much information as possible from Neal’s phone and from the chip.

First, they managed to get texts from Neal’s phone.

_Meet me in the alley outside the FBI. In 10._

_What’s up?_

_I need your help. Please._

_I just tried to call you. You didn’t pick up._

_I’m still in a meeting. If our friendship meant anything to you, please meet me there. For once take it seriously._

_Ok. Be there. Do you need anything?_

_Keep it quiet._

Hughes soon learned that it had been too late to keep it quiet. Gary already knew that Peter texted Neal.

“Agent Hughes, Neal told me that he was meeting Peter for a coffee run.”

“Welcome to the world of a conman.” Hughes commented. Whoever who wrote the messages knew where to strike. _Friendship…_

Then the chip…

The device had one flaw that neither Neal, nor Gary had noticed. Well, in the undercover operation it wouldn’t be a flaw but now… The chip apparently recorded everything that had happened since Gary planted the device. Hughes frowned – he didn’t know what to expect. The agent was afraid that he would learn something he truly didn’t what to find out. But he was surprised by Neal once more.

They had to go through several different conversations.

_“Neal, sorry for the suit.”_

_“Don’t worry. Thanks for bringing it but I could have just picked it up on my own.”_

_“It’s the least I could do. And I hope you like red wine?”_

_“Wow. Good choice. Let’s put the suit in the closet and then we have some. Did you drive?”_

_“No. I took a cab.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Is it your wardrobe? Sorry.”_ Gary must have entered the place.

_“It’s ok. C’mon. Let’s have a look.”_

After the short story of the wardrobe, the chip went silent for almost seven hours. Then something that sounded like rummaging through clothes. And then eleven hours of silence.

_“I tell you Moz, he must have put it somewhere.”_

_“Darling, are you sure? Maybe it was just an accident with the coffee.”_

Hughes smiled, imagining the look Neal must have given June because they checked each piece of the suit but found nothing.

“Good job Gary.”

“Thank you sir. My grandma is a tailor so he helped me to sew it in the right way.”

Then the pattern was repeat – silence, clothes being taken, silence, clothes returned, until this morning.

Apparently Neal must have overslept.

 _“Damn it.”_ And a bunch of obscenities Hughes never suspected Neal would use.

_“Morning June, I need to keep going. I must have turned off the alarm clock.”_

_“Did you stay up long last night?”_

_“Sorry if I woke you up.”_

_“Nonsense. So is the painting ready?”_ Hughes heart skipped a beat. _Damn it, Caffrey._

 _“Yes. The gallery will pick it up today. I think I have never been this nervous.”_ Hughes exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

_“Oh, don’t worry. Everyone will love your collection. When is the opening?”_

_“I have a meeting this afternoon to discuss it – I’m hoping they won’t change their minds. Two galleries have already turned me down – so it’s one of my last chances! I was told not to be late!”_

_“Mozzie is not very happy with you, is he?”_

_“No. But June, it’s now or never – I have to try to live by the rules. I’ve missed too many things because of who I was.”_

_“But you got so much, too, because of who you were.”_

_“Money, joy, excitement. How long it can last?”_

_“A small con here, a small con there? Won’t you miss it?”_

_“No. I’m done with it – for the FBI, security companies, museums – ok. For criminal purposes – no. I’m not going to blow the chance. Mozzie is my buddy but he has never been to prison. I’ve already spent too many of my best years behind bars. What if Peter hadn’t accepted my offer and I had spent another four years locked up?”_

_“You know I’m proud, don’t you? I’ll always support you.”_

_“Thanks June. I’ve got to go now! See you this evening!”_

_“Neal, I’ll be out of town for a few days!”_

_“Ok. My art supplies should arrive tomorrow.”_

_“Don’t worry. I’d love to see your new paintings!”_ Hughes smiled but his smile didn’t last long.

Cab drive, coffee, working with Gary. And then Neal went to meet ‘Peter.’

_“Agent Rice, did you decide to take a walk outside the building? You know a nice park is not that far away from here.”_

Everyone in the office looked at each other in disbelief.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence?”

“We’ll find out soon.” Hughes commented and everyone almost stopped breathing.

_“Shut up Caffrey. We both know why we’re here.”_

_“Maybe you do. But I don’t. Could you enlighten me, please?”_

_“Didn’t you get a text from Agent Burke to meet him here?”_

_“Why would I meet Peter here if we have his office, his house, my apartment, plenty of cafes, restaurants, park squares…”_

_“I have to admit. You have balls. Always so smart, always testing, checking, weighing each word.”_

_“Peter didn’t want to meet, did he? You used his name to lure me here. Why?”_

_“I knew you’d come if you thought it was Peter asking you. You two have always been inordinately protective of each other. Makes a person wonder…_ _I don’t know what he sees in you but he would do anything to protect your sorry ass, to make sure you are doing ok. He would put everything on the line for you – his career, his life.”_

_“But you don’t share his sentiment? Oh, and I see you brought some friends with you. Nice to meet you gentlemen. Don’t you think you spend too much time in the gym. It can’t be healthy!”_

_“Of course I don’t share his sentiment. You’re a criminal. It’s in your blood. I’m just making sure you fulfill your destiny, and helping me out at the same time.”_

_“Do you have a personal grudge after our last case?”_

_“They suspended me. The put an official reprimand in my files. Do you know how hard it is to earn promotion with something like that!”_

_“And now what – your goons are going to rough me up?”_

_” I have bigger plans for you. The gallery that took your art –yes, I’ve kept track of your activities – don’t bother going. I called them and made clear who you are, and I added that you were a suspect in an ongoing investigation and that you probably want to rob them as you did the last place that took your art. I can con people too. And actually soon you will help to rob a place.”_

_“I might have been a conman. But you’re nothing more than a pathetic liar. And I won’t rob anything.”_

_“I didn’t say voluntarily. But the Met has just upgraded its security – and you were the main man responsible for this task. With your past, overseas account, DNA left at the crime scene – but mostly with your disappearance, well, I bet Peter will be devastated.”_

_“And what’s in it for you?”_

_“Caffrey, what do you think? Money. Girls do love diamonds. And banks love mortgages paid on time. But this is enough. I waited long enough – I missed so many opportunities earlier… Take him. And good bye Neal. I don’t think we will meet again.”_

Hughes closed his eyes while he heard Neal’s attempts to get free, his cries of pain when the goons proved they meant business, then his humming and bubbling nonsense when he was drugged and asked about the Met, then him speaking in French.

_“Dose him again.”_

Neal wasn’t very cooperative – he presented the history of the Met and then he drifted off.

_“Don’t worry. Let him sleep. We’ll try something more persuasive later.”_

Fortunately, later – after a game of waiting – it was Peter’s voice and his soothing words.

“I’m going to rip this witch apart! Piece by piece. Gary – you did good today. We’ll talk about it later. Right now I want you to work with these agents on the background check on Rice and criminals she worked with or worked for. Check the gallery she spoke about. And please stay – all of you – in this room. And I need a bug. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“Pen will do?” One of the IT guys asked.

“Yes.”

Hughes called Rice’s boss and asked Rice to come with him.

“One of my men is missing and I’d like to use your and her expertise.”

“On our way.”

When Rice entered the bullpen her eyes were looking for something or someone. Obviously she didn’t find it and she smiled and relaxed but quickly her expression changed and she composed herself.

“Agent Rice, Tom, I’m glad that you came. Our consultant Neal Caffrey is missing.”

“Did he run away?” Rice asked.

“Why would he do that, Agent Rice? He’s a free man now. The past mistakes are not a burden anymore. He has a fresh start.” Hughes smiled.

“Ok. Let’s establish the timeline. What time was he last seen?” _You’re a good actress. Your talent will be used in the prison theatre,_ Hughes thought.

“Around three hours ago. He went outside for coffee.”

“Well, yes – I think I saw him exiting the building.”

“Did you notice anything unusual?”

“Not really.”

“Did you speak with him?”

“No. Maybe I nodded ‘hello.’ Why are you asking?” Rice was sure that she turned off all the CCTV cameras in the neighborhood, that no one had seen her.

“Well, I’m not an expert but there’s evidence showing that the last person who saw or spoke to a missing person is usually involved in her or his disappearance. Isn’t that right?” Both of Hughes’ guests nodded.

“So I have to ask, Agent Rice – especially given your ‘history’ with Neal. Do you know anything about his disappearance?”

“Reese, are you suggesting that my agent is crooked?”

“No, Tom. I just have to ask so we can move on and follow other leads. It’s a simple question.” Hughes smiled.

“Of course, I don’t know why he’s missing!” Rice shouted.

“Are you sure?”

“Reese, what the hell is going on?”

“Tom, please let her answer the question and I’ll explain later.”

“Of course – I didn’t have anything to do with his disappearance! I didn’t speak with him today. I don’t know what happened to him.” Hook, line and sinker.

“Agent Rice, I believe that your career with the FBI has come to an end. Please hand in your gun and a badge. You are under arrest.” When Rice’s boss wanted to protest, Hughes interrupted him.

“Tom, here is the transcript of her conversation with Caffrey just before he was kidnapped.” Agent Tom Adams took the transcript and started reading.

“Is Mr Caffrey ok?” Rice’s boss asked with shaking voice still browsing through the file.

“ He was taken to the hospital so the list of charges will change depending on the medical opinion.”

“Agent Rice, you’re a disgrace to the FBI. I will make sure that the prosecutor knows about your lies and uncooperativeness.” Agent Adams told her – disgust evident in his voice.

“Boss, please let me explain. It must have been staged – he’s a conman!”

“You had your chance.” Hughes told her and another agent came in to take her into custody. It was quite a sight – an agent cuffed and led away by her ex-colleagues.

“Reese, I’m so sorry – I knew she didn’t have the best relationship with your consultant but I would never suspect something like this!”

“It’s not your fault. No one saw this coming.”

They talked for a while and then Hughes wrapped up the day, thanked Gary and made himself clear what he would do if someone tipped Burke off, and then he headed to the hospital. He knew that he had to keep Peter out of the investigation for the agent’s sake – at least he thought so. He also knew that Peter was not going to like it.

The next day Hughes got a phone call from an unknown ID.

“Agent Hughes.”

“Morning, it’s Peter. I took El’s phone so you would pick it up.”

“Peter, I told you to stay out of this. I ordered you to do that!”

“Reese, you did. But first, it’s just a call. Second – if I’m to help Neal, I need to know more details.”

“So you know something?”

“Well, Rice is behind bars. I’m a bit surprised.”

“Damn it – I don’t even want to know how you found out. How is Caffrey?”

“Do you want to hear his answer or mine?” Peter heard a sharp intake of air.

“I’ll stop by your place in an hour. Do you need anything?”

“I need to know what happened.”

When Hughes arrived at Burkes it was an early, sunny afternoon like many in mid-May. Neal was sound asleep bundled up in blankets, basking in the sun on Burke’s terrace with Satchmo as his guard. He was pale and his bruised cheek had some vivid colors but Hughes reminded himself that the kid was alive. The rest was the aftermath. The rest they would deal with. He saw Neal’s medical report – bruises on hands and torso, a split lip, a bruised cheek bone (fortunately, not fractured), abrasions on his ankles, drugs with a name he couldn’t even pronounce. Nothing life threatening but frightening and painful.

“Do you want to wake him?” Peter asked.

“No. Let him sleep. He looks like he needs the rest. We can question him later but we really don’t need his statement. We have enough.”

“El fed him some food and his pills. That knocked him out. He’s still chilled but he wanted to be outside. I’ll drag him inside later in the afternoon. Evenings are still too cold and even in mid-day he took almost every blanket we had.”

“Maybe he should have stayed in the hospital?”

“Good luck. It was hard enough to convince him to stay for one night and I think the only reason he stayed was because they dosed him with medication and he was out of it.” Peter chuckled bitterly.

“How is he?”

Peter sighed heavily and waited a while before he responded.

“I don’t know. Obviously he is weak, unsteady on his feet, dizzy – he threw up after the drive from the hospital. El managed to cajole him into drinking some ginger ale and eating a few bites. Reese, he’s too quiet. The last couple of months were hellish for him – and in what – three, four? weeks his contract will be terminated. And I’m afraid of what he will do. After Smith’s and now after Rice’s actions, the criminal world seems to be a playground for kids! How I’m going to show him that he is valued? That I appreciate that he stays out of criminal activities?”

“Peter, I think you worry too much. Be there for him.”

“You know something, don’t you?”

“I brought you a transcript of what we found out from the bug. These pages are relevant to the case. These aren’t – I put them in the envelope with some information for Neal. Respect his privacy, ok? It’s nothing illegal. And please pass along a message from me: tell him to buy a decent wine for the opening. And that I want a ticket.” Hughes knew that he had to tell Peter something so the agent could ask Neal. He suspected that Neal wouldn’t be too forthcoming without some convincing.

“Ok. Could you elaborate?” Peter sounded surprised.

“No. It’s his part to tell you. And the fact that I brought you this doesn’t change the fact that you will stay out of the investigation – we will handle it. Rice will pay the price. Your task right now is to make sure that Neal gets better. And consider leaving the city – a friend of mine has a cabin a two-hour drive from here. Here is his phone number. He is willing to help you. Maybe in a day or two when Neal feels up to it, you can take El and him and go there for some time. The scenery there is picturesque, breathtaking. Think about it. I have to go now. Give Elizabeth my regards.” The older agent excused himself and during the drive back to the office pondered about his activities during the day.

A phone call here, a phone call there and Neal had his own exhibition in one of the finest galleries in New York – he was a great artist who deserved a chance. Besides, Hughes knew that if you once saved a life, you were now responsible for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Ideas? Reviews?
> 
> I have some doubts about the stories - because it seems as I can go on and on ..... Don't worry at least 2 chapters more and then... maybe goodbye?


	13. Neal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely ayam did an amazing job with this chapter! As always - thank you!
> 
> And SO MANY thanks for the kudos and reviews!
> 
> Don't worry - I won't abandon WC:) - I just have to get a grip:) and finish this story ( I will try very hard to be back next week but it might take a bit longer)...but don't worry about the future - because there are some ideas... :)

When you do something that by law is regarded as a crime, you easily tell yourself that it’s not your fault that someone erroneously considers something ‘a crime.’ In your book it was something different. But how long you can lie to yourself? A conman trying to con himself is a rather pitiful sight.

After Boston and the deal, you realized that there would be no other chance to straighten things out, to chose – life behind bars or life outside them, life as a con or as a man. Almost Hamlet’s dilemma. The choice hasn’t been easy – because most of your adult years you have spent committing crimes of one sort or another.

And the question in the back of your head – who I am without them?

In one day all your hard work, your arguments with Mozzie over the perks of leading a crime-free life, your attempts not to do something stupid, reckless, criminal when an opportunity presented itself, were about to be blown not by a criminal from your past, present or future, not by your own actions but by a federal agent.

In one day your dreams of becoming an artist, helping with the best museums’ security, consulting with the FBI on some cases, were dashed to pieces.

*****

Neal had a bad gut feeling about the texts from Peter – but it was Peter’s ID (he would learn later that Rice used a device to break into Peter’s phone and remotely use his ID). He knew that the atmosphere between the two of them wasn’t the best over the last months. Neal was still angry with Peter and didn’t trust him while the agent made poor attempts at gaining Neal’s trust and friendship once again.

Friendship and trust were the two key words in their relationship – interwoven throughout all possible cases and persons. Deep down Neal wanted, needed Peter – but he wanted to set new rules, to say that he had learned his lesson and he had made a decision. Neal knew that Peter would be proud.

Then in the alley he chastised himself for being so stupid as to fall into Rice’s trap – of all people it was Rice who outsmarted him. Agent Kimberly Rice whose lovely caricature as a witch on the broom had gotten him his only reprimand from Hughes over the last few months. The agent had walked in when Neal had just finished it.

“Caffrey, I would appreciate if you used your skills on something more appropriate.” The agent took the drawing and Neal didn’t know what happened with it – he suspected that it was thrown away.

Hughes actually didn’t destroy it – he put it in his desk. It was a damn good drawing. Seniority had its privileges after all.

Kimberly ‘the witch’ Rice had apparently used some of her street contacts and Neal was taken away. While Neal remembered exactly the conversation between Rice and himself, the rest was like a collage – bits and pieces. He felt the pain of blows, but mostly he felt the pain of the end approaching too quickly.

In the cold basement – shackled, scared, lonely – minute by minute he was more convinced that there was no way out of it. The goons hadn’t left anything to a chance – no lock to pick, no escape route to follow.

As cliché as it sounded, he had taken a quick look at his life. Had he regretted his crimes? No. His years behind bars? Not really. His lost chances? Who hadn’t regretted those? But what he regretted the most was the fact that his friendship with Peter had taken a wrong turn. Because Peter was one of the few who saw beneath his masks, baby blues and cons. And now – for once – Neal would have loved to be found by the agent.

When Neal hadn’t cooperated, they drugged him and then the rest was a blur.

Then a dream of being rescued. Wait, maybe it wasn’t a dream at all?

Neal’s drugged mind wasn’t sure what was going on. It was Peter’s voice, wasn’t it? Peter’s cologne, calloused hands, soothing voice. He felt safe. For a minute or two.

Then someone’s else hands, voices, smells. No. Not safe at all.

_Peter, help! No!_

Neal was more and more alert but still wasn’t sure what was going on. Jones. Why is Jones here? And Diana?

Neal was certain that there were questions, answers, someone mentioned Gary and the bet and then he was moving. But it was ok. Because Peter was there. And Peter was talking to someone.

_Working for the FBI. MY partner._

Neal had reached a level of semi-lucidity and semi-coherence by the time they arrived at the ER.

“Neal, you’ll be examined now, ok?” Peter told him and squeezed his hand.

Neal nodded and was placed in a small cubicle in the ER with a lot of people ready to take care of him.

“Sir, I’m Dr Carter and I’ll be in charge of your care today. Can you tell me you name?”

“Neal… Neal Caffrey. Call me Neal. Don’t touch me. Why there are so many people? I didn’t do anything. Can I go home? I’m fine.” Neal panicked when he saw people around him and flinched when they touched him. Dr Carter exchanged glances with his staff and everyone but a nurse left. Neal’s slacks with Gary’s chip were taken as evidence and Neal was helped into a set of scrubs because he loudly expressed his dissatisfaction with a paper gown.

“Let’s calm down a bit. Neal, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Step by step. I know that you want to go home but first I have to make sure you’re okay. I’m going to put this on your finger so we can see if you’re breathing ok.” The doctor showed him an oximeter and put it on Neal’s finger. His voice was soft and calm.

“The blood pressure cuff will stay for a while but it shouldn’t be uncomfortable. The sooner we start the exam, the sooner it is over. Your friend outside seems to be very worried so I hope to let him know what’s going on as soon as possible. Is it ok?”

Neal nodded and asked, “Peter? Peter’s there?” Neal seemed to forget about the fact that they came together in the ambulance.

“Yes, and as soon as we are done I’ll let him in.”

“Good.” Neal relaxed slightly.

“Can you tell me where it hurts?”

“My head.”

“Ok. I’m going to touch it.” The doctor gently examined Neal’s neck, his head and then his face.

“You have a nasty bruise. No bleeding or swelling. A split bottom lip – we will clear and glue it. X-ray of this cheek and a CT scan.”

“No. Just let me go home.”

“As soon as everything checks out ok. Now, anywhere else?”

“No. Home. I want to go home.”

“Ok. But we need to check you over. Then we will talk about going home. Can I have a look at your belly?” Neal nodded.

The doctor took inventory of his injuries while the nurse made notes on the chart.

“Bruises on the left side and lower part of an abdomen. Neal you have a scar here? Did you have a surgery? It looks recent.”

“A scar? Yes. I was in car accident but I’m fine and I want to go home, please.”

“Not too long, sweetie.” The nurse tried to cajole him.

“Can you lift your arm?” Neal managed without too much difficulty to move his arms. His movements were sluggish due to the drugs but he didn’t feel much pain.

“Good. The bruises will fade in a couple of days. Nothing more serious beneath them.” The doctor looked at his legs.

“I’m not taking my clothes off.”

“Ok. I’ll just pull the bottoms up a bit. Do you consent to that?” Neal nodded.

“Abrasions on both ankles. We will clean and wrap them. Neal, nothing is life threatening – but you will be stiff and sore for a couple of days. Let’s get you more comfortable – we will patch you up. ” The nurse nodded, prepared necessary equipment and started her gentle ministrations.

“Relax, it might sting a bit but you’ll feel better soon.” They cleaned his face, glued his lip.

“ Ok, it wasn’t that bad. Here, it might be a bit cold – it will reduce swelling. And the ankles – no scars will be left but please keep the dressings dry and clean.” Her voice was calm and Neal didn’t have the heart or energy to protest anymore. At least for now. When they were done, the doctor asked,

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I’m not sure.” Neal remembered the feeling he had – that there was no way out, that he would die soon. He remembered the panic of having no control whatsoever. The fear of not saying goodbyes. The regret of not being able to use the chance he got. The pain of life about to be ended too soon.

His breathing became more and more difficult because he was back there – even though his fuzzy brain didn’t remember exactly where THERE had been. The smell of mold, water trickling in the background, raspy voices, pounding in his ears.

“It’s ok. You’re safe. Breathe in and out. It will help.” A cannula was placed under his nose to provide more oxygen. The plastic smell brought Neal back but his face turned white and green.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Neal threw up. He was shaking more and more violently. The doctor and the nurse exchanged worried glances – they weren’t sure what was the main cause – the psychological or physical trauma. Or both combined. Normally they would put Neal under or at least give him a painkiller but right now they had to waited for the tox screen. It meant that they were helpless for the time being.

“Ok. We already sent your blood to be tested and as soon as the tests are back we can give you something for the nausea. We will draw blood in a hour to check the level of drugs. And I recommend some more scans.” Neal was becoming more and more determined to get the hell out of there, find a small hole, crawl into it and never leave the place again. At least until he figured out what to do with a life that seemed to be falling apart. Surprise. When wasn’t his life falling apart?

In the morning – no more than eight hours ago – he was sure that the pieces would fit together. But it was long time ago. Before the kidnapping. Before Rice who had reminded him of who he was and how he would be perceived. And then had arranged things so that that was sure to happen. Maybe he should run before he was arrested again. Go back to the life. Mozzie would be thrilled. Maybe this was the only life he was fit for. Once a criminal always a criminal.

“I don’t want any further tests – I can refuse them, can’t I? I will sign all the necessary papers but I want to get out of here!”

“We have to wait until the drip is over. Neal, lie down and try to get some rest.” Neal obediently did so because he couldn’t muster the energy to rip off the IV and run.

“Let’s cover you with a blanket so you can rest for a while. I’ll let your friend in, ok?” The doctor knew that he wouldn’t win any battles with Neal – if Neal refused medical attention, he wouldn’t be able to keep him any longer. Dr Carter hoped that Agent Burke could convince Neal to stay for the night and have some more tests done.

Neal sensed Peter’s presence and somehow it reminded him of old good times. Of course, ‘the old good times’ hadn’t seemed to be so good back then but he missed them. And soon he realized that he wasn’t the only one.

El probably would cry and say what she wanted to say. But that was El. Neal just looked at Peter and Peter looked back. Both of them hoped that it would be enough. At least for now. Welcome to men’s world.

Neal didn’t know why or how but apparently Peter convinced him to get all the tests done and even to stay for overnight observation because the next thing Neal was aware of was the sound of the CT scanner and the feeling of being moved.

Then his doctor was back and they gave him something. When this something left his system, it was the next morning and he woke up to the smell of fresh fruits, pastries and El’s perfume.

“Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

“I’m ok. Can I get out of here?” Neal didn’t feel ok – but he was far more coherent and aware of what had happened yesterday. A hole to crawl into was his dream right now.

“After I put some food in you. Here.” El gave him a glass of fresh juice and a croissant. While Neal was eating, Peter went to look for the doctor.

“Your doctor should be here in a minute.”

Dr Carter arrived shortly with a nurse and they poked and prodded Neal for a while. He wasn’t given a clean bill of health but they decided that he was good enough to be discharged.

“Neal, a nurse will bring your discharge instructions shortly. Please follow them – try to avoid stress and extensive physical activities over next few days. A lot of rest, sleep, non-alcohol beverages and not too rich food. You should stay with someone – you will be dizzy and wobbly.”

Neal was sure that the instructions would be snatched by Peter – and now he regretted that he put the agent as his medical proxy. Peter would interpret _should_ – as _have to_ and _recommendations_ as _obligations_ and Neal was sure that he would end up with the Burkes. He wasn’t sure if it was something he truly wanted – no holes to crawl into there. He wasn’t sure if being alone in his loft was something he truly wanted either – no holes there either.

“Mozzie brought your clothes. Let’s get you changed and we’ll go home.”

“Shower.”

“Ok. But if you faint, you will stay here longer.” Peter threatened.

“I’ll take my chances.” Neal grinned and headed to the adjacent bathroom. His room was a nice, spacious one and he was sure that Peter had to do something with that.

The shower was more exhausting than Neal had thought and by the end he really was close to fainting. _Get a grip, Caffrey, you’ve had worse._ When he surfaced from the shower, he announced he was ready to get out of there. El went to get the car.

“Neal, June’s out of town so you have two options now: Burke’s couch or Burke’s guest bedroom.”

Of course, Peter had gotten his hands on Neal’s discharge instructions. But truth be told Neal only half-heartedly protested against this proposition. When he found out about Hughes’ offer slash threat slash order of vacation for them, he was too stunned to protest further. He had seen many things in his life – but Hughes and ‘stay-out-of-the-office-for-over-a-week-offer’ didn’t seem to belong in the same universe. The drive was silent and when they reached Brooklyn Neal was more than sure that his meager breakfast wouldn’t have a chance to stay down long. And he had a very urgent need of becoming horizontal.

“Sweetie, let’s get you upstairs.” Upstairs meant a guest bedroom. Small. Nice but still small. With a bed – but with four walls and a door. With a window – but still to confined. _Get a grip Caffrey, you’ve had worse._

“Can I just lie down outside? It’s warm and nice.” Neal asked with puppy eyes. _Hook, line and sinker._ El agreed against her better judgment because Neal was still chilled and Peter had to help him to even stay upright.

“I think we can arrange that but only if you promise to eat something.” Fresh air (if something like that was even available in New York), sun on his skin, smell of flowers, fuel and freedom. He could do that.

“Deal.” Neal didn’t even protest when El gave him ginger ale and his pills apart from some yoghurt and crackers – but he was sure that originally his deal involved ONLY food. After all these years he should know better. Deals always have some ‘small print disclosure’ involved.

Neal wondered what that ‘small print’ on his deal with the FBI was. He was too tired to check it and soon he was asleep huddled under every blanket El could find.

He woke up hours later based on the sun and heard Hughes’ voice and the door slamming shut. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Hughes meant bad news. Then mother nature called and Neal had to disentangle himself from the mound of blankets waking up Satchmo and thus alerting Peter in the process. Peter had a grim expression. Bad news. Neal should call this ‘a day of bad news.’

“How are you feeling?”

“M’ok. Need to go upstairs now.”

“Ok. Let me help.”

“No. I’m good.” Neal announced with wobbly legs.

“I see that.” Peter grabbed Neal’s waist and gently supported the younger man on the stairs.

“Let me know when you’re done.”

“I’ll be fine. Going down is easier.”

“Hmm. And then I would have a crime scene at home when you fell and cracked your skull.”

“Today you’re still definitely no fun. Again.”

Somehow they managed to get downstairs without accident. Peter got Neal seated on the couch. Neal was tired. Again. Sleepy. Again. Dizzy. Again. And he hated the aftermath of the drug almost as much as he hated the effect of the kidnapping on his life.

 _Dream of an artist coming true..._ He laughed at himself. _When do your you dreams ever come true. Get a grip, Caffrey. There is still art you haven’t stolen yet. Welcome back to the world of conmen._ He thought bitterly.

“Let’s eat.”

“Outside.”

“You’re cold. I’m not risking you getting sick if we are about to get out of the town for a while.”

“Are you offering me a ride to Sing Sing?” Neal blurted out. Peter was caught by surprise.

“Peter, please give me an hour before you call anyone. Let me disappear. I can’t…I can’t go back.” Neal pleaded. Peter’s face tensed. _Neal thought that the FBI had pegged him as an accomplice. He didn’t know about the recordings from the chip._

“Kiddo, calm down here. First, you’re not in any trouble.”

“But Hughes’… and the vacation – it’s for you so you can’t….” Neal was becoming paler and paler.

“Hey, stop. Now. The vacation is for US. So you can have some time to get over what happened. What Rice did to you.” Peter knelt in front of Neal and held the kid’s trembling hands in his firm grip.

“What? How do you know that?”

“The chip – you remember?”

“Is it working?”

“Better than expected. Before you ask – Gary put it in the waistband of your pants. His grandma’s a tailor.”

Neal took a minute or two to absorb this new information. “I owe him.”

“You do. Ok. Let’s eat something. El has an event but she left some soup. Up to it?”

“No.”

“You need food with your meds.”

“I don’t need any meds! I’m fine.”

“Shall we go to the hospital to have them check it?”

“No fun. What did Hughes want?”

“He brought the case files – someone told me about Rice’s involvement yesterday.”

“Let me guess. Gary?”

“What would Mozzie say – neither confirm, nor deny.”

“He’s a great kid but he needs to learn so many things.”

“Neal, he would have been kicked out of the office or put in some dark room with cold cases if it weren’t for you. You’ve been a great help to this kid. You should be proud.”

“Thanks. Does it mean that I can skip a meal?”

“Of course. If you’re the one to tell El that you didn’t eat.”

“I changed my mind. A bit.” Peter was heating up soup with a huge grin. It was the longest conversation they had in months. The closest thing they did to what had been BEFORE Boston.

“By the way, Hughes left you an envelope. And asked me to tell you to buy a decent wine for the opening and get him a ticket. Care to explain?” Of course Peter already had some suspicions.

“He did what?” Neal opened the envelope and found several items in it. The witch’s drawing – _Good judge of character._ Hughes had written on small yellow post-it note. The conversations from the chip between the moment it had been planted and the moment Neal left the office. _You have every right to preserve your privacy._ Another yellow note said. Some job offers – from security companies, museums, insurance company. _Senior consultant with the FBI. Decent salary . Health and dental benefits. No office._ The next yellow note said. And the poster announcing the opening of… Neal Caffrey’s art exhibition. _Your paintings are already there. I like red merlot._ The fourth note said and Neal would have wondered which probie or intern was short a pad of small yellow notes if he wasn’t pondering what he just had just read.

 _Opening. Art. His name._ Not an invitation, not maybe but, not next year… There was ‘a date’ there. Three weeks from now.

“Peter… gallery… this… gallery…how…it…can…it…isn’t…possible…” Probably the first time Neal had been rendered incapable of formulating a sentence without prolonged pauses.

“I did…I didn’t even…even…go…there…”

Because of Neal’s sudden lack of ability to speak clearly, Peter took Hughes’ notes and browsed through them.

“Wow. Congratulations Neal! You really deserved that!” Peter sounded so proud. _So damn proud_.

Peter hugged Neal gently and Neal found comfort in Peter’s touch. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day. Maybe his life was bruised and cracked but still mostly in one piece. And maybe world heritage art would be safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Ideas? Reviews?  
> Sorry - but I have such a soft spot for Neal and happy endings...
> 
> And the survey:  
> https://ankiety.ucntn.umk.pl/index.php/799325/lang-en
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> (It's not THAT personal and you can quit at any point!) Thanks!


	14. Gary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gary and Neal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all reviews and kudos!  
> And my lovely beta Ayam did such a great job with this chapter! Thank you!  
> And thank you for taking part in the survey! If you didn't, you can still do that - link on the bottom of the page!

When you’re a genius people think that your life must be easy and full of fun.

That’s not always the truth.

 You’re smart – no doubt  – where other people see waves, you see equations, where others see a page of meaningless numbers and letters, you see patterns, where others see problems, you see challenges. You can play all kinds of intellectually challenging games – but you fail miserably in the everyday games of social interactions.

Your parents and grandparents have always been supportive and loving. Your siblings probably  would also have been helpful, if you had any. But when you are a teen or a young adult you need your peers. And they – well, they aren’t all that supportive and loving. So you turn to books, science, learning. That’s how you got the internship.

After the first two weeks of your internship with the FBI, you are pretty sure that it’s not your place either, that nothing good can happen here.

But then Neal Caffrey happened. And everything changed.

*****

Gary remembered that day – almost everyone was restless, nervous. The kid didn’t know much about Neal Caffrey – because Gary and the world of gossip weren’t meant to exist together. His ignorance was a blessing in this situation.

So Gary remembered that day not because he had expected something to happen. He remembered it because Suzie – an intern from another division had asked him if she had looked good in a sweater.

“It’s ugly. You don’t look good.” In Gary’s world a question asked by another human being required an answer. A sincere one.

Suzie almost broke into tears.  And of course everyone must have found out about his fauxpas. He was given a stack of cold cases and it was made clear to stay out of everyone’s way.

Sometime around mid-day a new guy entered the conference room where Gary was working.

“Sorry. Is it ok if I work here a bit? I need some space.” The stranger asked and glimpsed at Gary’s notes in the awe. The kid was brilliant. 

“Sure. I’m Gary.”

“I’m Neal.” Gary cleared a part of the table and didn’t even flinch hearing Neal’s name, which made Neal curious. He was sure that everyone in this building knew about the events in Boston and his deal by now.  He proceeded cautiously.

“So are you a probie here?”

“Now, sir. I’m an intern. And you must be a new agent?”

 “I’m a consultant.”              

Gary looked a little surprised.  “I haven’t met any consultants working here before.  Are you usually in this office?”

“I worked here for a while, then I was transferred to the Boston office.  Now I’m back.”

“That’s nice.  I guess.  Did you want to come back?”

Neal figured he’d better clue the kid in.  “Peter arrested me for bond forgery some years ago. I was in prison for four years, and then Peter and I worked out a deal where I served the rest of my sentence as a consultant in White Collar division.  My sentence is over but I signed an agreement to continue working here for a few months.” 

Gary’s eyes widened perceptibly. 

Neal laughed.  “Never fear. Although the FBI alleges I’ve been involved in every crime they don’t have any other suspect for, I’m perfectly harmless. You’re safe.”

 “Neal, we’re in the building full of trained agents. It’s a safe as you can be.”  Neal was inclined to  disagree after having dealt with Agent Clarks and Rice and Fowler and  some other agents too, but decided to keep his mouth shut.

 “Ok. Why are you in here all by yourself?”

“Because I make everyone angry, sad or frustrated.” _It’s getting more and more interesting,_ Neal thought. He already liked the kid.

“What have you done?”

“Today?”

“For starters.”

“I told Suzie that she looked bad in a sweater.” Neal didn’t even have to know who Suzie was – telling any women that she looked bad in something… well, usually ended badly for the messenger.

“It wasn’t the first time, was it?”

“No. Yesterday I told Agent Berrigan that she looked fat in a new blouse. She asked.” Neal was laughing so hard that it took him some time to catch his breath.

“Ok. Gary….Gary… I’m sorry… but… you told Di that she looks fat and you’re still walking? Lucky you! You’ve got courage. I’d never say something like that. Ever. Not on my death bed.”

“But I’m not sure what I did wrong…” And then it struck Neal.

“Jesus kid, you really don’t know, do you?”

“I know that you’re not supposed to lie to other people…”

“Have you ever heard of white lies?”

“Yeah.”

“Social games? Manipulation? Cons?”

“It’s unethical.”

Neal snorted.

“But it will save your life. I’ll show you… Let me give you an example – fat, plump, round, big, put on weight, skip dessert – this phrases are banned when you talk to a woman. No matter what she asks. First of all, you have to apologize to Suzie. Who is your supervisor here?”

“Agent Jones.”

“Ok. He’s my boss too. I’ll get and clear it with him. Chocolates, flowers…”

Gary would love to buy Suzie chocolates or flowers but he had no more than $5 in his pocket and probably less in his bank account. His family wasn’t rich so usually he helped them and this month money was tight.

Neal looked at Gary – looked and noticed his worn clothes, cheap watch and uneasiness. His sigh when Neal mentioned shopping. He knew how it felt when you didn’t have money, when you had to hide that you didn’t pay for some trips, birthday presents, not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t afford it. And maybe Neal hadn’t experienced that so many times but Danny Brooks could tell much more about it. Gary wouldn’t accept a handout. Pride was a powerful thing.

“Do you like Suzie? I mean like enough to ask her out?”

“Neal, I know you don’t know me – but I was sent away from people for a reason. I can’t talk to people – I don’t do well with people.” Gary’s voice faltered at the end, and he suddenly found his shoes to be of utmost interest.

“You talk with me just fine. And social competences are learnt not inherited! I’ll teach you. We  all have some weaknesses.”

“And what would yours be?” Gary asked.

While it certainly wasn’t Neal’s style to admit to _any_ deficiencies, he bit back his almost spoken “Well, there are exceptions to every rule,” and went with what he thought the younger man needed to hear.

“Well, I’m impulsive, reckless sometimes. I like challenges.  My need for an adrenalin rush has gotten me in trouble many times.”

“But you can talk to people.”

“Gary, I’m a conman – or I was a conman (allegedly) – I can con people, I know what to say, what to do to get what I want.”

“Are you conning me now?”

“Now.  I’m not.”

And from this moment on Neal took Gary under his wing. Suzie wasn’t the one who caught Gary’s eye so she just got a card (drawn by Neal) with apologies. And Gary got financial support from the FBI (and if necessary, from Neal as well – not that Gary suspected the latter).

“Hughes, the kid is brilliant. Give me some time and I’ll prove it. But we need to pay him. Give him my check – I don’t care – but he is too young to worry about food on the table.”

Hughes found a source and Gary got $500 a month. The agent was sure that it wasn’t due to the money but thanks to Neal’s presence and support and Gary – day by day – was doing better.

“Why is she smiling at you?” Jones asked one day when Diana, Gary, Neal and Peter were eating lunch together. He referred to one of the probies who passed by wearing the ugliest canary blouse Jones had seen with… oh, God… Jones wasn’t even sure what it was.

“She asked me what I thought about her outfit.”  Everyone but Neal held their breath.

“I told her that the color wouldn’t be my choice but it shows her energetic and optimistic personality. And that I really liked her earrings.” Everyone but Neal looked at Gary with eyes wide-opened.

“Caffrey, how did you do it? Maybe I should attend your ‘workshops’ or whatever you teach?”

“You’re too old Jones. Sorry.” Jones punched Neal’s arm and pretended to be deeply wounded.

“Agent Jones, I could pass along some tips.” Gary smiled and everyone enjoyed the banter.

Gary unconsciously tested Neal’s patience several times but Neal never managed to get angry with him. Neal pushed Gary, encouraged him, showed him his abilities, provided assistance with the social world – played the role of an older brother.

The last challenge was the chip. It was supposed to be just a bet. Maybe even a bit childish in the world of adults. But Gary improved the device  – it wasn’t for the money or the tips (well, maybe a bit) – it was for the challenge, for the sparkle of pride in Neal’s eyes. He didn’t suspect that it would save Neal’s life. As he never expected that cooperation with Neal would save his life.

Thanks to the chip’s success, everyone had congratulated Gary but the kid was more concerned about Neal. Hughes was gone dealing with Rice’s arrest so Gary had to wait until someone would tell him something. Later he approached Diana. He was still too intimidated by Jones.

“Agent Berrigan, how is Neal?” He asked Diana before wrapping up the day.

“He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Is it possible to see him?”

“Gary, Neal was taken to the hospital and probably he wouldn’t want anyone to see him there.”

“But why?” Diana sighed.

“Because he’s Neal. Please respect him on this. We’ll call Peter tomorrow. You did good today. Do you want a ride home?”

“No. I’m…I’m going out.”

“With Sue from 14th floor?”

“She approached me today and she asked me if I wanted to talk about it. Don’t worry, not about the case. She meant emotions and so on,” Gary blurted out, blushing profoundly.

“Good luck.” Diana smiled – Neal had done an incredible job with the kid.

The next day Gary arrived smiling (the date apparently went well) and was surprised to find his desk cluttered with gift cards from different shops.

“Gary, you deserved it. Congratulations, son.” Hughes approached him when everyone in the office stood and applauded the kid’s arrival as if he were a Broadway star.

“Agent Hughes, I don’t know what to say… I can’t take it…”

“You can and you will.” Gary nodded reluctantly.

“Thank you, sir. How is Neal doing?”

“He’ll be fine – he was discharged from the hospital this morning. Don’t worry. He’ll be out of the office next week but I hope that you’ll survive on your own.”

“I hope so too.” Gary told him and Hughes laughed good-naturedly . The agent had already set things in motion to get the kid a job here (even if only part-time so that he could continue with his degree).

Later Diana approached Gary.

“I called Agent Burke – Neal is staying with him and his wife. We can grab some take-out and go see Neal. But Gary –he’s banged up, tired and he might not be his usual self. He was drugged and he doesn’t do well even with over-the-counter-painkillers.”

“I know. I heard the recordings.” Diana realized that it must have been hard on the kid – it was hard on them and they were trained and experienced. Gary was still young and a civilian.

“Ok. I’ll tell Agent Hughes that we’ll leave a bit early.”

On their way to Burkes’ Diana bought some food – chicken soup, fried rice with veggies and so on. Peter warned her that Neal was dizzy.

When they entered Peter’s house, they were greeted by Satchmo and slightly raised voices.

_I ate._

_Three spoons._

_It’s not my fault that you burnt the soup._

_I didn’t burn it._

_Aren’t_ _you going to greet your guests?_

“Thank God.” Peter announced seeing Diana and Gary.

“I guess that Neal’s better.” Diana smiled.

“He’s been more annoying over the last hour than over the last months. Be prepared. Gary, congratulations, son.”

“Thank you sir. Nice house sir.”

“That would be my wife’s doing.”

“Cavalry arrived.” Peter told Neal who tried to stand up to greet them but was stopped by Peter’s hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t think so.”

“Diana, please tell me that you’re here because Peter has to go back to work.”

“No. I’m here because Gary was worried about you. I’ll unpack the food.” She kissed Neal on the cheek without the bruise and headed to the kitchen, Peter at her heels.

“Seriously, Gary, I can’t thank you enough.  If it hadn’t been for the chip, I would…”

“Stop Neal. I was only doing what you encouraged me to do. You were the only one who decided to take a risk and work with me. Despite my flaws.” Gary smiled and Neal knew that the kid was right – if it weren’t for that meeting in the conference room, in a couple of years Gary would be nothing more than another geek who couldn’t find his place in the world and Neal would be another man missing without a trace or a body in the body bag. But Neal also knew that he could say the exact words to someone else. _You were the only one who decided to take the risk and work with me. Despite my flaws._ He just hoped that he made (or he would make) Peter as proud as Gary made him.

“You did good. So what did you bring for supper.” Neal squeezed the kid’s hand. Gary smiled and took a change of subject as a clue that Neal didn’t want to talk about yesterday. Neal still looked pale, fragile but his eyes were full of life. Gary didn’t know yet that Neal’s dream of his own art exhibition had come true today.

“Agent Berrigan ordered the food. I’m not sure what she brought.”

The evening was full of friendly banter – Neal telling them how Peter burnt El’s soup and Peter telling him that he didn’t burn the soup and with small talk about Gary’s date, weather and going to the cabin for the next week. Neal barely ate but they managed to cajole him into eating enough to take his meds.

When Neal started to fade, Diana and Gary excused themselves and left. Gary was thanked for something like the millionth time and promised to be taken shopping.

“Neal, you don’t have to. My backpack is half filled with gift cards.”

“A deal is a deal.”

Gary smiled.

“After your return from the holidays.”

“It’s medical leave.”

“Whatever.”

And the next day Neal with the Burkes left New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Reviews?
> 
> I won't lie - the next chapter would be pretty much some fluff... and the finale of this story :)
> 
> And I forgot:  
> Could you please take some time and fill in a short survey, those who didn't take part?  
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> (you have to copy the link, sorry...)  
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	15. Neal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal and his family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale...  
> Thank you for kudos, reviews!  
> And as always - my lovely beta Ayam improve my writing! Thank you!

When your family isn’t the best, when there are more flaws then strengths, you promise yourself that when you start your own, you will make it perfect. Full of love, support, trust. But then when the love of your life is gone, you wonder if you ever will have a chance to pursue your dreams.

Then you realize that ‘family’ is quite a vague notion – a mirror reflecting social changes, the smallest part of the society, the circle of people bound not only by blood but mostly by bonds, a support system that is there to catch you when you fall. And then – somehow, somewhere – you manage to get yourself a family.

This family cries when you cry, laughs when you laugh and doesn’t back off whatever you do.

*****

June arrived in Brooklyn early in the morning bringing a bag of Neal’s clothes, some art supplies and a well-hidden coffee. She was greeted by El who was still in her robe but apparently had awakened a while ago and now was busy cooking breakfast and packing for the short holiday. Peter was walking Satchmo.

“Good morning, June. How are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m more concerned about Neal. How is he?”

“He’ll be fine – he’s still asleep upstairs. Shall I wake him up for you? I was about to do it anyway.”

“No, I’ll do it.” June quickly went upstairs, knocked on the guest bedroom door.

“Ok. Second door to the left.”

“Neal, darling. It’s June. Do you mind if I come in?” Hearing only an undecipherable moan, she opened the door and entered the room cautiously. The sight deeply touched her – Neal was sleeping peacefully on his side with his mouth slightly parted. He looked so young and innocent, all her protective instincts rushed to the surface.

The sight reminded her of the day back in mid-January – the day she didn’t truly want to remember – when she had arrived at Neal’s hospital room in Boston praying to find him alive and thanking all the gods she could think of when he had begun to get better. Now it was another near miss. She wondered how many nearmisses a person could take, how many times a person could bend before breaking. Even with Neal’s resilience and strength. She made a promise back in Boston and she was about to keep it – she would do anything to make sure Neal was safe and sound, she would do everything in her power to see that he had a place that was more ‘a home’ than just ‘a house.’

The kid was covered by many blankets which seemed to be gently spread over him. June smiled – she didn’t entirely trust the Burkes – but apparently they were managing to take good care of her precious tenant. She knew that El and Peter had – mostly – good and genuine intentions but she – and Mozzie as well – planned to watch them closely for anything different. Just in case.

As much as she didn’t want to disturb Neal, she knew that he should be awakened, so that he could eat and get ready for a vacation – the latter probably first time in a while. She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently touched him.

“Neal, sweetie. I know that you want to sleep but wake up for a moment. I brought you coffee – don’t tell El.” Neal’s eyes fluttered open.

“J’n’e?” Neal asked, rubbing sleep off his eyes. He pushed himself up.

“Hi…But…What are you doing here?” He asked still in a sleepy voice.

“I wanted to make sure that you’re okay. And I brought you some clothes for your vacation.” She hugged him gently. He would be fine – and she would make sure of that. She was a grandma after all – she knew how to protect dreams from becoming nightmares, fight monsters in the closets and spoil with chocolate, movie marathons and hugs. She was more than fit for the task of protecting Neal.

“Did I hear coffee?”

“Yes. Here you’re.” She smiled.

“You know that I love you.” Neal smiled taking a sip and June chuckled.

“I love you too, Neal.” She hugged him even more closely and they talked for a while about the vacation and his gallery exhibition.

“I’m proud. So proud. But I would be also proud of you even if you stayed on the other side.”

“I know. Thank you.” They smiled and June excused herself, taking with her the paper coffee cup so it wouldn’t be noticed by El. Neal suspected that El made a copy of his discharge instructions and highlighted with a yellow pen the most ‘useful tips’ – such as: no coffee, plenty of rest and no stress.

He was sure that El would mother-hen him (and he wasn’t sure how much he could tolerate– Boston with June and Debbie had been hard enough). If it was too much he could always ask Mozzie for some sort of ‘an escape plan.’ Besides, Neal had some ideas on how to ‘occupy’ Mrs and Mr Suit – he had already made a reservation at a restaurant in the proximity of the cabin – meaning 30-minute-drive for a romantic dinner for them. And meaning – an evening for himself.

When he made it downstairs, El shoved him a plate of crepes with spinach stuffing.

“Slight anemia! I should have known! I should have made you more Tupperware with food. I should have forced you to eat more. I should have…”

“Morning to you too. Why are you up? Didn’t you have a late event?” El’s glare warned him not to change the subject.

“El, it’s probably nothing. C’mon…”

“You – mister – are anemic. It’s not ‘nothing.’ And don’t you dare tell me it’s just ‘slight.’ It could be serious! And Peter didn’t even notice it! Men!” She found her copy of the discharge instructions and showed him a tiny box with a number just below the normal range.

“And it means I’ll be fixing you a lot of healthy stuff. Eat up.” She poured him a glass of orange juice.

“No coffee.” She added and Neal was thankful for June’s visit. He wondered if he should be also grateful for the fact that El didn’t seem interested in feeding him some seaweed or other ‘healthy’ stuff. The idea struck him as funny and he started laughing, leaving El clueless.

“Neal, are you feeling all right?”

“El, you don’t have to mother-hen me. I’m fine.” He managed to tell her.

“You’re not fine. And I haven’t even started!” Neal stood up, hugged her and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you.” She was speechless for a minute. Then she told him, hugging him closely,

“You’re not fine. I’m not fine. Peter’s not fine. But we’ll get there.”

“I can’t lose you. Peter can’t lose you.” She added softly. El wasn’t a mom but it didn’t mean she didn’t have a lot of protectiveness towards beloved ones. Neal knew though that El’s priorities were straight: Peter and then Neal. He was sure that she would put Peter’s life and well-being above his. He was also sure that she would put Neal’s life and well-being above anybody else’s after Peter. And he was grateful for that.

Peter entered the house just then to ask, “Why my ex-CI is hugging my wife?”

“She’s hugging me.” Neal announced.

“We’re hugging each other.” El put it right and added,

“And now sit down before you fall down. Eat.”

Neal managed to eat enough to satisfy El. When he was taking shower and getting ready, Peter and El packed the car. El got changed and the trio plus Satchmo was ready to go.

Neal was given his meds and was sound asleep before they even left Brooklyn. He woke up over two hours later and breathed in the smell of forest, wet soil and calmness. Hughes didn’t lie – the cabin was situated in a very picturesque valley in the middle of nowhere. And the owner apparently enjoyed the wildlife but decided not to abandon civilization as well – electricity, hot water and a fireplace could come in handy.

The days passed slowly and peacefully. Peter convinced Elizabeth to let Neal be so she only tried to feed him and check on him no more than ten times a day instead of ten million times. Neal was getting better – he ate more, was more steady on his feet and felt warmer. But nightmares plagued his dreams and on the third night he woke up screaming.

Peter came to check on him. “Neal, may I come in?”

“Yeah.” Neal was sitting in the bed.

“I’m fine. Sorry for waking you up.”

Peter sighed: “Waking up screaming it’s not fine. And no one expects you to be ‘fine.’ Maybe it would be easier if we actually talked about what happened.” Peter asked cautiously.

Neal and Peter had talked. A lot. About cases, people in the office, movies, books, even Neal’s exhibition or his future but they never managed to talk about Rice or Boston.

“Easier? When? For whom?” Neal covered his head with hands.

“Easier afterwards. For both of us. Ok, let me start. I was so terrified when I realized that you had been missing. I just thought – I failed you. Again.” Peter‘s attempt at an explanation only made Neal angry.

“Damn it, Peter! Don’t you get it? I was kidnapped! Me not you! I was drugged! Beaten! So it shouldn't be about what you were feeling! For once… Just don’t put yourself in the center!” Neal didn’t intend to sound harsh but…apparently putting a butterfly bandage with a inscription _We’re buddies_ on a deep, infected wound called _Neal and Peter’s relationship_ wasn’t working so well.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean it…”

“Yes, you meant it. But just for once it would be nice if you thought about how scared I was, rather than how scared you were.”

They sat in a silence for a while – Neal with his back against the head of the bed, Peter on the opposite side.

“I was petrified…I wanted a fresh start – legit job, maybe a family… And then… I was sure that I wouldn’t survive… I don’t remember that much… But I felt so lonely, so scared, so hollow…

You know a long, long time ago when Kate and I… when we were together we watched a clip. Do you know that song ‘I will survive’? So there was a clip – a parody with something like an alien cartoon creature singing the song… and when she sang ‘I will survive’ something big fell down and smashed her… That how I felt… And it’s scary even now because… I wasn’t in control there. I could do anything to get control…But rationally I shouldn’t feel that way now… I get my own exhibition…vacation days because of what happened…I should be getting better, not worse.”

After a moment, Peter said thoughtfully, “When I was in training I attended a workshop on grief and mourning. They told us that sometimes people don’t cry when a beloved one dies. They seem to be fine and not touched by what happened. But when three months or three years later their pet dies, they mourn uncontrollably … But it’s not for a canary… or a cat… It’s a delayed reaction.”

“Are you trying to tell me that my past is catching up with me and biting my ass?” Neal tried to lighten the mood.

“I would say – past losses, near-misses and tight spots… your childhood, your criminal career, prison, Kate, Fowler, Kramer, Boston…”

“Wow. …it sounds like I’ve had such a miserable life …”

“No. You haven’t… But it hasn’t been a bed of roses. It’s ok ‘not to be fine.’”

“You spent too much time with El.” Neal added in a soft voice.

“Do you want a hug?” Peter knew that he had to let go now. Neither he, nor Neal were ready for long heart-to-heart talks.

“Do that and I can guarantee you a solid punch.”

“Are we going back to sleep?”

“No point in that. Let’s make coffee.”

“Are you allowed?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Neal told Peter and grinned. They brewed coffee and went outside to admire the break of the dawn.

“Do you think I could see Rice?” Neal asked.

“Let’s wait for a while. I know you want closure but let the dust settle.”

“What will happen to her?”

“She cooperated but the prosecutor didn’t cut her a deal. She will serve time. They caught the big fish behind all of the thefts – he wanted the paintings for private collections. Probably in Asia. He wasn’t very talkative.”

“I can imagine.”

They stayed in the cabin a bit longer – Hughes’ protests against Peter’s request for extended leave were only half-hearted. It was obvious that Neal needed more time to process the past months and needed someone to be there with him. Someone trustworthy. Peter – a combination of a fatherly and brotherly figure – was there during the nights when the nightmares were still present and during the days when sometimes it was hard to breathe, walk or talk. Neal was becoming more and more himself – but he needed time and assurance that it was ok to give himself this time to heal. Neal was drawing, winning Poker or board games, plotting something (legal as he assured) with Mozzie over a burner phone and encrypted messages. Mozzie was another part of Neal’s family – maybe he would play the role of a black sheep, wayward brother or extravagant uncle – being more then loyal.

When they came back to New York, they were well rested and ready to face life again. Neal and Peter came back to the office, El to her events.

Neal took Gary shopping but the tips weren’t necessary – apparently Gary and Sue had managed to establish a close relationship. Gary was surviving well on his own.

Jones complained, “Damn it, he behaves more like Caffrey than Caffrey and I’m not sure if it’s for the better.”

Neal grinned.

“You survived me, you will survive him.” Jones groaned and smiled.

Diana got her oversweet coffee and a new Justin Bieber ring tone on her phone.

“I miss you. And your pranks.... So much. But I have never told you that.” She hugged Neal.

Neal decided to stay with the FBI – part-time and after a two-month stay in Paris first. The Louvre had requested his assistance with an upgrade in their security. Sterling-Bosch hired him as a consultant as well.

“Are you planning on sleeping?” Peter asked in a soft tone.

“I do. From time to time at least. Maybe I will also upgrade my education.” Neal grinned.

“I’ll tell El. But if she invades your place with food and all the mother-henning, I’m not the one to blame.”

Neal realized that it felt good – to be loved and taken care of.

When the day of his gallery opening came, he was nervous. El’s company took charge of the wine and snacks. Debbie with US Marshal Mike Sanders and Agent Sanchez came from Boston. Neal felt that the trio had grown closer over the past months.

“It’s so beautiful, Neal. I’m so proud.” Debbie told him.

“I’m glad you used your chance well, son.” Sanders told him.

“I want your autograph! I’ll keep it as an addition to my retirement plan.” Sanchez added.

Hughes praised the wine, El tried to hide her tears of joy, June didn’t even bother trying. Diana was deeply touched, Gary was in love with Sue, Jones was simply happy.

Peter and Mozzie admired the art – two opposite characters united thanks to Neal. They saw glimpses of themselves, Neal’s life in his paintings – in his set of portraits.

The next day a reviewer wrote in NY Times:

_Neal Caffrey’s art introduced a breath of fresh air in the stagnant world of NY’s art. The Artist must have studied all the great masters of painting – you will find glimpses of Monet and strokes of Matisse among other inspirations. But when you look really hard – you will notice a genuine, unique Caffrey style hidden just below the surface – to paint people like this you have to see them at their best and their worst, to picture their emotions fresh and raw, you need to take a trip to hell and back. With Caffrey’s art there are no shortcuts, no simple answers – just a complex picture of humanity._

They all read it and smiled – Mozzie in his cab, June on her terrace, El at the kitchen island, Peter in the elevator, Hughes in his office, Diana in the coffee shop, Jones in the gym, Gary on the subway, Debbie in her apartment, Sanders in his car, Sanchez at his desk, Sara on the plane, Rice and Clarks in their cells. Each of them – willingly or not – contributed to the success. Each of them played a role in his life – positive or negative. Each of them shaped his life – and his art.

Neal read it at June’s. He just smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos!


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